


It Started Out as a Bit of Fun

by ProfessorDrarry



Series: Lost Amongst Our Winnings [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Canon Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorDrarry/pseuds/ProfessorDrarry
Summary: Blaise doesn't really want to be an Auror. But he DOES want to keep the attention of one Harry Potter just a little bit longer. Post-Hogwarts, BZ/HP, Dimlight!verse.





	1. A Starting Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part prequel to "The Light is Dim", part new romance, entirely fluff filled fun. Can you dig a Zabini/Potter love affair? Let's see! Characters not mine, even though I keep throwing them in weird situations.

Blaise Zabini was bored. Historically, Blaise being bored was not a good thing. Not for him, and certainly not for anyone else. The last time he had been this bored, he had wandered out of the Slytherin common room only to find himself a member of the stupidly named 'Slug Club', and miserably being forced to have dinner party conversations.

Now, there was no Slytherin common room. There was no Hogwarts and people everywhere to distract him from the mundane crap of everyday life. There was still a month before Auror training started, and it had been the longest summer of his life.

As he lay here in Draco's study, inverted on the couch and trying to see everything upside down, he felt like maybe he had been remiss in not trying to make more friends at school. It seemed that he was going to suffer now.

"Dracooo, I'm bored. So BORED."

"You've mentioned. I, however, mentioned that I am working, and therefore do not have time to entertain you right now."

"But that's so wrong. And so boring! You always entertain me."

"Well, you are just going to have to find some new distractions next month. It looks like this Healer business is going to be way harder than I ever imagined."

"Why are we even doing this, Draco? We are rich. And pureblood. We are supposed to be…giving dinner parties and screwing with the patriarchy. Not having careers like normals. We weren't raised to be able to endure it."

Draco laughed as Blaise put his hand to his upside down forehead in mock dread.

"Oh yes, because Blaise Zabini would love a life of dinner parties and bureaucracy. You hate small talk. Besides, new world order, mate. We have to make something of ourselves."

"Yes, thanks to all of them, our parent's generations. I don't see how that's fair."

"It's how it's always been. Nothing is going to change now. You want something to do? Right now, I mean?"

"I hesitate to say yes, after having shared a dorm with you for ages. Last time I agreed, I somehow roped myself into hand washing all your silk robes."

"Yes, well…you are sitting in my study. Distracting me, by the way. And I haven't unpacked everything. Besides, you'll like this one; I need help putting all the books away."

"The books? You mean, the collection of very valuable, very rare, and very fucking cool potions books that Snape left you? Those books?"

"I don't trust the elf to do it. Interested?"

Blaise was already standing up, walking toward the corner of the vast office where three large, wooden crates had been stacked.

"Keep meaning to compliment you on this flat, by the way. Penthouse. Very posh. So…London."

"Yes, it's oh so lovely having your parents try to buy you off for nearly killing you and all your friends. My mother's guilt is lucrative, as though saying, 'dear Draco, sorry about that evil overlord business, have a lovely flat' is a thing people do."

"Whatever, reap the benefits. You haven't heard from them, right? Clearly they are respecting your 'leave me the fuck alone' edict."

"For now, but living here is definitely going to kick me in the mouth at some point. Oh well. The books, they can go in whatever order you'd like."

So Blaise unpacked the books. They really were beautiful and fascinating. He loved potions, and these ancient books had so many ridiculous potions that he would never understand the need for. Some of them, though, had him stealing parchment from Draco's desk and scribbling down ingredients and directions for later experimentation.

He spent the next three weeks crashed out on Draco's sofa, swivelling back and forth between helping him unpack the flat and baking more and more elaborate desserts. Occasionally, they were so complex that he'd have to bring home pans and weird ingredients. Draco suspected there were times when he was eating 'magically enhanced' puddings that may or may not contain components of 100 year old potions that Blaise was finding in Snape's books. He would have been annoyed, but he knew his best friend too well. All of this was a symptom of the larger issue. Namely, that Blaise was terrified about the start of the Auror program. It was all the things he hated, rolled into one place. New people, uncontrollable schedules, conversations he'd be forced to have. Draco decided that if what Blaise needed was to bake constantly, unpack so he was in constant motion, and then not sleep in his own, very empty flat, he would just let it happen. Well, that, and reap the benefits. He'd by lying if he said he didn't appreciate the fact that his flat was more liveable. With Healer training going the way it was going, he wouldn't have gotten it into shape for months. All in the name of friendship, of course.

Blaise, however, knew he was being ridiculous. A few nights, he actually had tried to go home, but his flat was so quiet. So silent. He could hear everything in the street, and he hated it. Years of sleeping in a dorm and hearing other people constantly had made it very difficult for him to sleep in silence.

Not to mention the dread. There was so much dread. He hadn't had to deal with new people in almost a decade. He didn't want to now, but he had to do something. Apparently. If he thought he'd get away with it, he would just stay at home, baking like a weird shut in. He never actually ate any of the things he baked, so that could be a problem. Maybe he could be the weird neighbourhood Samaritan who left puddings on doorsteps. Then, he supposed no one would actually eat mystery desserts. So, Auror training it was.

He'd gotten in. Apparently, that was something to celebrate. Never mind that he hadn't actually wanted to apply, or be in school. Or an Auror, exactly.

Surely, he could make it work.

A month passes quickly when you dread it's end, and before he knew it, Blaise Zabini was wishing for the days of boredom in Draco's study. Surely that would be better than puking in bushes outside the ministry training building, trying to convince himself to go in. Draco stood behind him, trying to wait patiently. Luckily, Draco was a good friend.

"Marry me, D."

"Absolutely not. I'm way better than you."

"That, and straight."

"That too, but the larger issue is that I can do better."

"Ooooh, you mean Katie, the lovely-"

"Go inside, Blaise."

"Oh, fine."

"You'll be fine, Zabini."

Blaise turned and looked at Draco. He realized that he was extremely fortunate that Draco was as discrete as he was. There was no way that his reputation would survive people knowing he was such a social scaredy-cat.

"Hey."

"I know. You're welcome. God, go inside. You'll be FINE."

And so he turned, and went inside. Of course, ten minutes later, he resented every bone in Malfoy's body for making him go inside early. He had already found his name on the list, found his classroom (which looked disturbingly classroom like), and was sitting. Alone. Waiting.

If there was one thing worse than new people, it was waiting.

He put his head in his hands and sighed, trying to calm down. When he looked up again, there were six other people in the room, and suddenly, the only available table was the one beside him. Just his luck, everyone else was chattering away with people they clearly already knew. He sat up and let himself feel the full weight of the terrible.

Two minutes to the hour, the door opened a final time, and a body sat down next to his. He studiously did not look at the body beside his for the first five minutes.

What commenced in that five minutes was the most painful moment of his life. He wanted to see who was sitting next to him, and yet did not. He endured the introductory comments of the decrepit old Auror who sat at the front, ridiculously disfigured and making him further question his career in the protective arts. Just when he thought the whole thing could not become more unbearable, he was proved wrong.

"Now, turn to the person you are sitting beside and introduce yourself. They will be your partner for the next few weeks. Don't bother whinging. I don't care."

Blaise sighed, although he hoped it mostly internal, and turned ever so slightly to look at the person he would be forced to at least partially interact with for an indefinite amount of time. All he saw, from this angle, was that the person was presumably male, and had brown, slightly too long hair. And black robes, like everyone in the room. It wasn't a lot to go on, and he started to say hi before being stopped by his seat mate.

"Save it, Zabini. If we have to deal with this sitation, I don't want to hear your 'witty' quip."

Blaise turned fully and almost did a classic double-take before restraining himself.

"Potter."

"Got it in one."

"Why...What…Where is your fellow Gryffindor crony?"

"Oh yeah, I have a crony. Ron is in a different room."

"I...hmm."

Blaise tried to say something else, but he was truly at a loss. Here he was, staring at his former classmate. With permission. It was the first time that had been the case. And now, he was going to have to work with him.

"Potter, I-"

"Zabini, I meant it. Save it. We only have to speak when it's necessary."

Potter turned back to the front of the class and crossed his arms, clearly closing himself off to further conversation.

And all Blaise thought was, Sure, Draco. I'll be fine.

Famous last words.

* * *

 

"So, wait, you're mad because he won't talk to you?"

"I'm not mad…well, okay. Yes. I am. But not because he won't talk to me. You make me sound like a petulant child."

"Well, I mean-"

"Shut up. Arse," Blaise said, smiling. Draco was right. He was being ridiculous. "I'm just annoyed because he _has_ to be my partner. And apparently, he has decided that he also _has_ to make it more difficult for us both."

"Yeah, well, I'm not worried. You are Blaise. You make people like you. You wear them down by sheer force of will. Even if it is frigging _Potter_ , the twat."

"I don't want him to like me."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I just need him to work with me."

"Liar. You've wanted Potter to like you as long as any of us have. Plus, I know you think he's hot."

"Hey! Foul. You are not supposed to bring that night up. That was the deal. I have dirt on you from that game too, remember," Blaise said, warning seeping his tone without him meaning it to. "Slytherin dorm rules. Is nothing sacred anymore?"

"Fine. Fair enough. So you just want him to work with you. That's even easier. Just be annoyingly sarcastic and funny- he'll come around. I have to go, B. I have…a thing."

"Ah yes, you have that date with Katie. Katie Bell...A Gryffindor. Life _is_ strange. What in the world has happened to us?"

"It's not a date. We're just studying."

"You should tell her. She looks _mint._ "

Sure enough, Katie Bell was standing outside the building in muggle jeans and a complicated looking top. Blaise laughed as Draco simultaneously blushed and paled. He had never seen Draco embarrass so easily. Clearly, this Bell bird was an actual match for him. He was warily happy for him. He knew Draco, and he knew that he had not fully processed how much he actually liked her. He could only hope that things would stay cute and hilarious, and not dramatic.

"Go have fun, D. I should go home. I need to strategize anyway."

"I feel like this may be an appropriate for that Muggle phrase Pansy tried to teach us...er, 'go get, 'em, tiger'?"

"Ugh. No more Pansy chats for you. See you later."

* * *

For two weeks, nothing really changed. Auror training instantly ramped up after that first day, and they spent five to six hours a day on their feet in simulated combat. The rest of the time, they listened as the decrepit old Auror, Delamare, critiqued their performances and told them war stories as scenarios they had to solve. In spite of himself, Blaise was actually sort of having fun. Potter was quick and skilled, and he often beat Blaise in hand to hand. But he was rash, and he made decisions visibly, emotions playing on his face and giving him away. Blaise started to notice patterns in how he reacted to the scenarios, and he started figuring out where the holes in his strategy would be so he could fill them in.

"You two are a strong team," Delamare said early in the third week. "It's good to have a partner who knows your weaknesses. Good work, figuring that out so early, Zabini."

Blaise grinned. Potter glared.

"Oh, come on, Potter. That was a compliment. We rock, didn't you hear? We'll be out of here before anyone else."

"Tell me what I'm doing wrong."

Blaise laughed, "You aren't doing anything _wrong_ , you are just a bit predictable."

"Well, that's definitely not a good thing, in this line of work. Tell me what you mean."

His tone was demanding, mean, and it pissed him off.

"Not until you stop being such an _asshole_ to me. Seriously, Potter. What the hell did I ever actually _do_ to you. I mean, I know you are still harbouring some childish notion that I am evil because I was in Slytherin, but can you actually tell me what I did. Specifically. To you."

Potter glared some more, and turned away. Which pissed Blaise off even more; it didn't often happen that Blaise got angry. He wasn't quick to emote, period. But in this moment, he was annoyed. Here he was, trying his best, and his life was being made more difficult for things he had never done. He reached out and grabbed Potter by the bicep, turning him around.

"Let. Me. Go," Potter snarled.

"Not until you tell me why you hate me so much."

Potter visibly inhaled. If his reputation was anything to be believed, Potter _was_ a hot head. Typical Gryffindor. Still, he was obviously trying to restrain himself and he was talking quietly when he looked Blaise in the face to reply.

"Did you fight, Zabini? Did you stay and see our home destroyed? Did you stay and see our fellow classmates _die_? No. You ran. You left the castle the second you had the chance. You and all your other-"

"I'm going to stop you there, before you say something you can't take back. I _was_ there, Potter. I was there. We came back. I held a first year in my arms as she died-she'd snuck back through the tunnel, hit by a rogue spell. I saw ancient staircases fall, just the same as you. You know, none of my family were death eaters, I didn't want them to win anymore than you did. Idiots, the lot of them. I fought, alongside you. More importantly, I fought alongside my friends. Alongside people who were fighting against _their_ families."

He let his hand drop. He looked around. They were standing in the back corner of the small room. No one saw them, no one was listening. The glimmer of spells flying all around them, and everyone focused on the task at hand.

"Tell me, Potter…How long ago did you decide that things were so easily divisible? That good and evil were entirely separate? You wanted to know what your problem is? That's part of it. You expect everything to be clear cut. It isn't. Life is not that easy. It's time you grew up and realized that."

This last sentence was not what he had meant to say. He was, however, annoyed. How dare the Gryffindor Saint tell him that he had no right to grieve? How dare he question the level of his sacrifice? Potter had no idea how difficult their lives had all been since he'd defeated Voldemort, and Blaise was fed up with people assuming that he had not suffered. Still, being mean would fix nothing. Being nasty was contrary to his plan, went against what he wanted from Potter. An Auror partner who trusted him, who didn't hate everything he did.

Shockingly, however, Potter didn't look angry. He looked a bit shell shocked, actually. His green eyes were wide and unapologetic, but he was looking directly at Blaise for the first time ever. For his part, Blaise was done for the day. He felt wrung out and alone, and he just wanted to leave. So he did. He heard Delamare call after him, but he kept walking until he was outside the building.

When he turned around, realizing that it was likely unwise to leave in the middle of the day, he found Potter standing behind him, hands in the pockets of his trousers, robes open. When Blaise looked at him questioningly, Potter shrugged.

"Fine. I'll bite…I need you to tell me more."

Blaise sighed, unsure about what exactly Potter wanted from him. He didn't hide his annoyance as he responded, "About what?"

"I don't know…all of it? That day. The other side of the story? I…My life has been super weird. I think perhaps you are right. I didn't really take the time to grow up. We're stuck here, together. So you tell me. Why _shouldn't_ I hate you?"

And all the anger went out of him.

He sat down on the stairs, and for an hour, he let Harry Potter- The Harry Potter, of continuous fame, decades of infamy, annoyingly present in all their lives- berate him with questions and memories. Blaise sat there and answered them the best he could. He felt vaguely that he was defending something he wasn't really sure he was truly a part of; all Slytherins. All Purebloods. All people who had taken the tunnel that night. All the people that weren't standing beside Potter in those final moments. Did he have the right? He didn't know. But he was damned if he wasn't going to try.

* * *

 

Like magic.

That's what he would ironically think for the first couple of weeks after the day on the steps.

It was like he had flipped a switch with Potter. Suddenly, they were almost civil with each other. Suddenly, Potter would crack the occasional joke. He would finish an assignment and smile, shake Blaise's hand. And for once, he actually felt like Potter was looking at him. Since they'd already been a great team, working together meant they quickly rose to the top of their class. The continued success put Potter in a good mood, and some days, he would come and eat lunch with Blaise on the front steps of the building, sharing some sort of vaguely friendly acquaintance.

Course, it didn't take long for him to figure out that Potter was using him as company on days when the ginger kid he'd hung around all through Hogwarts went to visit the bushy-haired Brainiac at her ministry job (Weasley and Granger. Fine, so he knew their names. Hogwarts wasn't really that big.) He decided not to read into it, choosing instead to pretend that Potter was actually his friend. His first one since he was eleven.

Strangely, that meant that he felt actual and real panic when their three month, in-class portion was over and they were going to be moved into practical arenas before their trial field tests began. He tried not to freak out as Delamare stood at the front of the room and explained that their whole starting class would be pooled into the same arenas. They could request changes in partners, would be working in larger teams, could even be placed into specialties in this new phase.

He sighed as Delamare ended the class, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to talk to more people now that Potter was going to be allowed to choose who he worked with.

"What's wrong, Zabini? Not ready for the next stage? Don't worry, I'm sure we can take 'em," Potter laughed. He was teasing, joking around, but Blaise was genuinely confused. He tried for humour back.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad your next partner will benefit from all my hard work."

"Next partner? You abandoning me, Z?"

"I…Delamare said we could choose our partners. I just assumed. You and Weasley-"

"Ha. Funny. Me and Ron trying to be partners at work. I'd likely kill him. You don't get to escape that easily. I've finally trained you up."

"Well. Okay. I…I'll see you Monday."

"Do you want to come for a drink? Me and some of the others, we were going to hit up the Leaky. Sort of a celebration of not dying yet."

Blaise laughed. There was a running joke, although it wasn't really that funny; every year, at least one student died during Auror training. It was just sort of accepted. Of course, it was very rarely during the first phase of training, but still. They had turned it into a thing.

"I'd love to, but I have plans."

"Bring her, too!" Potter grinned.

"Him, actually," Zabini laughed at Potter's expression. "What, issue with my sexuality? Well, you needn't blush. It's just Draco. We were supposed to have dinner."

"Draco Malfoy?"

"The very same."

"Hmm...See you Monday then," Harry said, face suddenly cold. Blaise wasn't overly surprised, as he followed Potter out into the street. Draco adopted a similar facial expression when Potter's name was mentioned around him. He didn't push it. He knew that those two had actual history.

"Hey, Blaise?" Potter said, just after they had parted directions, Potter off to follow the jovial group of their classmates on the walkway.

"Hm?"

"No problem, by the way. With your sexuality. We both know you were serious."

Blaise wanted to be surprised at Potter's words. He could feel the surprise bubbling inside of him, mingled with the shock of Potter using his name. Instead, the only thing that crossed his face was the cheeky grin he felt spread across his face.

"Don't worry, Potter. You aren't nearly pretty enough for me."

"Well, that's a relief, isn't it," he laughed, waving a hand and sauntering to catch up with his friends.

Blaise released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.


	2. A Few Important Truths

 

"Yup. It's official. I'm bored. Entertain me, Zabini."

"I think that may be the opposite of 'good surveillance', Potter."

" _This_ ," Potter said, voice seeping with undisguised disdain- and, he might add, in a tone very similar to that of a pure blood. "This is not surveillance."

"Well, strictly speaking…"

Potter wasn't wrong, Blaise thought with amusement. He got what the Auror trainers were trying to do, but he didn't feel like it was that effective. Watching foot tall conjured figures wander inside a fake room, waiting for them to do something vaguely criminal. It was all getting a bit dramatic. And, he had to admit, boring.

"Fine, but we _cheat_ , first," he said, casting a ward onto the scene. It would alert them if anything drastically changed.

He sat back on the ground and turned to Potter, who was already dejectedly leaning on the wall. They were sitting in the courtyard, having staked out a nice little corner away from other teams. The early fall sun was pretty awesome after weeks of working in large, concrete rooms, physically exerting themselves for hours.

"Well, what did you have in mind. A game?"

"Sure. We play 'truth'."

"Truth? You mean truth or dare, right? That stupid Muggle party game."

"Yes, but no dares," Potter warned. "We'd never get away with it. We have to avoid drawing attention to the fact that we aren't _technically_ working. Again. Belvedere will never let us get away with it a third time."

Potter's grin was infectious, and Blaise laughed. They had been getting into a fair amount of trouble this month. He entirely blamed the Gryffindor, whose attention span was almost non-existent, and who found endlessly hilarious ways to get out of any task that wasn't active or exciting.

"What you are talking about sounds pretty much like a conversation?"

"Nope, because you have to tell the _truth_. You have to answer me, I have to answer you. Besides, we'll save the dares for the pub!"

"Fine."

"Excellent. I'll go first. Did you always know you'd be an Auror?"

"Merlin, no. I hate hard work. I was always just going to be...you know. I'm sure you're familiar with old family lifestyles."

"Not much of a chance of that life anymore, hey?"

"It was about time. The non-magical world figured out it was stupid ages ago. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. Here we are. My turn. Are you sure you were supposed to be a Gryffindor?"

Potter startled. Blaise was confused; he had pulled his punch with that question. He'd been about to ask Potter about sex or something scandalous he was sure Potter wouldn't answer, just to put a stop to this ridiculous exchange and move on.

"What do you mean?" Potter said harshly.

"It's just...we've been working together for three months, and I've noticed that you have more than a little Slytherin in you."

"First of all, I reject the notion that we _are_ our houses. It's stupid."

"And?"

"And, the hat…I don't think I've ever told anyone this except Dumbledore…"

"Truth, Potty."

Potter glared at him, "The sorting hat almost put me in Slytherin, actually. Over the years….Well, I've always sort of wondered, but I didn't think anyone else would ever notice."

He turned to Blaise, a weird shy smile on his face. It caught Blaise off guard, and he quickly turned away, feeling his face colour slightly.

 _Well,_ that _will do no one any good, will it now,_ he admonished himself.

"Okay….let me see. Um, well."

"Just ask the question you want to ask Potter."

"Why are you friends with Malfoy?" Potter said quietly. "You seem so…well, I mean, you don't seem like…"

"Evil? Selfish? Arrogant, angry, volatile?"

"I mean, for lack of a better definition."

"Those are all the words he uses to describe you, you know. Okay, why am I friends with Malfoy? Because he is actually a pretty wonderful person to have on your side. He's loyal. He's honest. He takes care of people without being insufferable. There is also the reality that he and I understand the changes in the world. Not everyone does, you know? In our circles? I don't think you'd hate each other as much as you both think you do, if you just bothered to talk for five minutes."

"I'm good thanks," Potter snorted. "One irritating Slytherin in my life is enough for now, thank you."

They sat in silence for a moment. Blaise knew it was his turn, but the air in their little corner had shifted. He suddenly felt both irritated and confused. He felt like he should defend Draco more, but he also felt the need to push Potter for more details. Did he see Blaise as a friend now? Did his friends know that they chatted like this, openly and about weird things, as much as they did? Or did they think, as Draco and Pansy did, that he just spent his days treating Potter as an animated assistance animal, being nice as a means to an end? He wanted to know, but he wasn't going to ask. He felt Potter start fidgeting beside him, and knew that if he didn't start talking again, he'd lose the git's interest and he'd move on to another activity.

"I'm gay."

Potter looked at him sharply, then laughed a short, surprised laugh.

"No offence, mate, but I'm pretty sure we already talked about this."

"No, we didn't. I made an innuendo, and you assumed. I mean, you assumed correctly, but I felt like I should confirm your suspicions for good."

"I mean...thank you? Although, I feel like I should point out that it was your turn to ask a question."

"I'm getting there."

Potter conceded the point with a dramatic gesture.

"Are the rumours true? About you? About your…preferences."

Potter looked up at the sky for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to proceed. He waited, willing to give Potter as much time as he needed to decide how to answer him. Just then, however, there was a shrill screeching sound emitting from his wand.

"The ward," they said at the same time, leaping up to watch their weird, fake, glowing people.

They watched money change hands for some illegal dark artifacts, and two hours later, the forms were filed, the images Harry had recorded with the field camera were developed, and they had successfully 'captured' their 'criminals' (which was to say, watched as they disintegrated into mist when Harry pretended to apprehend them). Belvedere congratulated them and released everyone for the day.

"Potter, Zabini! Coming for a drink?"

Potter nodded, and clapped Blaise on the back.

"Come on, you'll have fun."

An hour or so after that, Blaise had to admit things were going better than he had expected. The twenty or so people gathered were all crowded around a few small tables at the back of the pub. They chatted jovially, commiserating over how stupid the day's activity had been. He was laughing and joking with the people he sat near, and realized that not only did they know who he was, but they weren't treating him any differently than his other classmates. He felt the warm buzz of the rum he'd drunk float around his head, and drank it all in. He had forgotten that Potter had not answered his question.

"Another round?" he asked the two people beside him, who nodded and clapped him on the back gleefully as he got up and swayed toward the bar. He never remembered to stop drinking until he stood up to check how drunk he was. He smiled. It had been ages since he'd been pissed in a pub. It felt good. He got to the bar and tried to catch the eye of Madame Rosmerta, looking down the bar to see where she'd gone. Suddenly, he realized that Potter was sitting there, butterbeer in front of him, barely touched, staring at the bar.

"Potter? You okay?"

He nodded, not looking at Blaise. He sat down on the empty stool beside him.

"Liar. Why aren't you back there, making terrible jokes with Weasley and Lorimer?"

"I never answered you," Potter said, looking up into Blaise's face for the first time. His green eyes were shinier than normal, and they shocked him just a little bit.

"It doesn't matter. Come on, let's just forget it."

"Blaise…"

"Don't worry, I'm sorry I asked. I take no stock in rumours, anyway. I was just teasing you."

"Blaise, the rumours are true. I've been…I keep trying to deny it, but I realized today t-that I don't really know why. I'm not exactly allowed to live a quiet, normal life anyway. Might as well embrace it, right? I've known for years, actually. It's just been really easy to ignore it."

Blaise sat quietly for a minute, avoiding Potter's gaze. He felt very unequipped to handle this confession; there were only five people in his life who knew he was gay, and none of them included his family, or the media. It wasn't done, to come out as a pureblood. You just got married, and then quietly carried on an affair with partners you actually wanted to sleep with. Until the war, he'd been perfectly happy living that life. Now, though, that all the other rules had changed? Still, he wasn't an expert or sage counsel.

"Well, first thing's first, Potter. I think you need to stop referring to it as 'it'. So you're gay…is anyone going to care? Anyone who matters, I mean?"

"Probably not."

"Well then, congrats. You are officially out. Come have a drink."

Potter laughed. He picked up his butterbeer, stood up, and clinked it against Blaise's newly refreshed rum glass.

"I don't know what I was expecting, with what I knew about Zabini logic, but that was surprisingly uplifting. Thanks, mate."

"Yeah, about that…am I? I mean, are we mates?"

"I thought so. I won't tell people, if you'd prefer, but I'd rather think of you as a friend when we head into the field next month. Lessen the chance of either of us being this year's statistic, hey?" Potter winked, walking away from the bar. On anyone else, Blaise might have felt like that had been flirting, but Potter didn't seem to realize what he was doing when he acted that way. _So incredibly hot_ , he thought, admonishing himself again automatically.

Still, there was no denying that he spent the rest of the night staring at the Boy Who Lived. He was definitely edging over from mere attraction to desire. Not that he would ever act on it. But there was no harm in a little drunken ogling, right? He reminded himself of this later as he Apparated unsteadily home and wanked himself to sleep.

No harm. There was no harm.

-xxXXXxxXXXxxXXxx-

"You have GOT to be kidding me."

"Sadly, I don't think I am. Which is unfortunate, since I spend an inordinate amount of time with him."

"Yes, and unfortunate because it is _Potter_. You may not date _Potter_. I have literally never tried to stop you before, but I ban this."

"Really, Draco, you _ban_ it? So much drama. I'm not going to date him, either. I'm not even going to tell him. It's just a silly crush. You have nothing to worry about. Although, I am starting to feel like you two should get over your ridiculous issues with each other. It's so…childish."

"I feel no need to bury the hatchet with Harry Bloody Potter, and this is the absolute last time I am having this conversation, Blaise Zabini."

"Okay, okay, keep your knickers on. So how is Katie? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"School is really busy. For all of us."

"And?"

"And Katie is lovely. Although, I promise you, we are not dating. She's an excellent friend, and she is way smarter than me. I need her on my side."

"Can you believe we've been in school for six months? Do you feel…is it going well?"

"Merlin, no. Blaise, can I tell you something?"

"What, of course. Always."

"I'm going to drop out."

"What? Why? Draco, becoming a healer is all you've ever wanted! You're just tired. It's break soon, you'll feel better afterwards."

"No, Blay, it's not just tired. Although, sure, I'm tired. But I keep screwing up. Everything is so rushed, so impersonal. It's making me crazy. And the memorizing, merlin…Do you know there are fifteen different incantations to heal a simple cut? It's ridiculous. Katie is so much better at it, too. And it's just got me thinking. What if it's not what I'm meant to be doing? What if I have a better path ahead that I'm not even trying to find?"

Blaise was on his feet. He was irrationally angry, and he wasn't sure why. But he was. He felt like Draco was running away from the difficult choice simply because it was difficult. A classic Malfoy move. He had spent years hearing 'when I am a healer' musings from Draco, and now, six months in, he was just going give up?

"Draco, don't do this. Don't throw it all away. What path are you on about? Do you even know what you are going to do instead?"

Draco just looked at him.

"No," Blaise said, anger lacing his voice now, raising its volume. "Draco, absolutely not. _The Pub_. You are proposing that you are actually going to drop out of a career, with money and prestige behind it, to run the _pub_ that was previously owned by an outcast squib?!"

Draco crossed his arms and looked away, muttering, "Don't be such a snob, Zabini."

"I AM a snob, _Malfoy._ And so are you! What the hell has gotten into? What's wrong with you?"

The attack words had their desired effect. Draco leapt up and stepped toward Blaise.

"What's wrong with _me_? You just admitted to…feelings…for Harry Potter. Fucking _Harry. Potter._ You said it yourself, Blaise. We aren't cut out for this life! Why should I fight my way toward a career I don't want anymore? Why shouldn't I just let go, try something else? We don't have any expectations! That's freedom, and what do we do? We jump straight back into responsibility. Look how happy Pansy is, working at the bookstore? Who's to say that I can't be happy running the pub! At least I'll be in charge of my own life again."

Blaise said nothing, just staring at the shouting blond. He was so furious. So very furious. But it wasn't because Draco was quitting.

It was because Draco was right.

"B, we both know why you're angry. But you don't have to do it either, if you don't want to. I know I talked you into it, and I'm sorry. You seem really good at this, at being an Auror, and you're happy, so I'm not saying drop out if you don't want to, but-"

"Oh, SHUT UP! Merlin, Malfoy! We both know I am not happy! I hate being in school again! I spend my days flipping back and forth between being bored and being anxious because there are _always_ people around, and the worst part is that _I never wanted to be an Auror_! I listened to you, when you told me we were going to need powerful jobs. How many months did we have this conversation. How many times did you talk me back into applying. And now, you…Ugh. I need to leave."

"What? Blaise, don't you dare fucking walk out in the middle of this conversation! We are family…you don't walk away from family."

"I have to, before I say something I-"

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF DUMBLEDORE. You and your 'words you'll regret' bullshit. Blaise, for once in your fucking life, say what you are thinking."

"Really? That's what you want? Fine. I think that you, Draco Tiberius Narcissus Malfoy, are being a giant fool, ignorant…short sighted. And worse, you're being a fucking hypocrite. You've been living like a kicked puppy since the end of the war, but you sit there preaching about the changes in the world. You force me to pretend to live a life I've never wanted, but you haven't even been living it yourself. You forced me to forgive myself, but you're too much of a coward to forgive yourself."

"Well, at least I am not sitting here pretending I don't need anyone, while being entirely dependent on my best friend."

Blaise stood motionless, mouth slightly agape, as the words entered his brain. He nodded once, and turned away, walking toward the door of the flat. He didn't feel like taking the time to un-ward the fireplace. He needed out, right now.

"Blaise, what are you doing?"

"I'm being closed off and emotionally distant. It's your favourite personality trait, remember? You should. You do it well."

Draco's arms dropped by his sides, one hand reaching up to scrub his hair. He looked dejected and very small. Blaise did not back down.

"Yeah," Draco said finally. "Well, I learned it from the best. I'll do what I want, Blaise."

"You always do, Draco."

As soon as he was on the street, he regretted the argument. It was a stupid fight, especially when he was just angry because Draco had said the words that he'd been thinking for three weeks now. He _hated_ Auror training, and unlike Potter and his friends, he didn't feel like the hard work was going to pay off. He didn't _want_ to do the things he was learning. He just wanted to sit in his study and read. Or bake.

Still, he was proud. He'd always been proud. He could never really work out if it was a character flaw. Right now, it meant that there was no way he was apologizing first. He was tense, angry still, and he practically ran all the way back to his flat.

When he got there, he saw Galileo sitting peacefully on his perch, hooting softly in greeting as Blaise flicked on a light. The emotion suddenly overwhelmed him, and he grabbed parchment and a quill before he could change his mind.

_Uh, Sorry. I know it's late. Help?_

- _Zabini_

He signed and sealed it into an addressed envelope and sent Galileo out into the night. He pulled on some pjs and collapsed into a chair. He immediately stopped thinking about his emotion fueled note in favour of self wallowing. This had the unpleasant side effect of being completely shocked when there was a sharp knock at his door a short time later. He dragged himself to standing and pulled open the door, only to find a dishevelled looking Potter, in joggers and a ragged t-shirt, wand drawn looking wild. Seriously wild. Almost wanton. Blaise shook his head.

"What's wrong, Zabini?" Potter demanded, Auror gaze open and fleetingly looking around his flat.

"Why are you here?"

"What?! You owled for help? Didn't you-wait. Quick, which one of us solved our first trial case, and how?"

Blaise sighed, but decided it was quickest just to answer.

"You did, by cheating. Although you _claim_ it was by following the hippogriff tracks in the photos."

Harry's stance relaxed a little bit and his eyes narrowed, "So, why did you owl me? What is it?"

Blaise looked right at Potter and sighed again. He was turning into one giant sigh. He walked back over to his chair and collapsed into it dramatically.

"I had a fight with Draco."

Potter stepped inside and closed the door, only seeming to hear Blaise a moment later and whirling around.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say that you sent me an owl containing the word _help_ , at _midnight_ , because you had a _fight_ with your _friend_."

"Yes. Although, that much condescension really doesn't suit you, Harry."

"Blaise! You owled HELP over an ARGUMENT. Unless this fight resulted in Draco's body being stored somewhere in this flat, and the help you need is disposing of it, I am going home."

Blaise didn't look up as the door opened. Instead, he just sighed into the room, "Oh. And I'm quitting the Auror program."

The door closed again sharply.

"Alright. So, where's your whiskey."

Blaise chuckled and got two glasses and a bottle of Blishen's off the top shelf. Potter had put his wand away and was looking around the flat.

"Did you just move here?" he said, taking note of the boxes in the corner, the bare walls, the utter lack of furniture.

"No. Did you just agree to be an accessory to murder for me?"

"No," Potter quipped, eyes sparkling irritatingly. Sparkling eyes and joggers and debauched looking hair were not what Blaise needed right now, if he was honest.

They settled down and Potter listened from his spot on the floor; the man eschewed chairs, which Blaise found irritatingly adorable.

"So," Harry said finally. "Let me get this straight. You had a fight with your best friend, over something you actually agree about. You immediately realized it was stupid, and you were wrong. But now, you won't go and apologize?"

"It isn't done. He started the argument. He _knows_ he started the argument. And so _I_ will not apologize."

"Fucking old families. Honestly. You're all cracked. But whatever, I'm sure he'll come around."

"Which just reminds me how little you know about Draco."

"I just don't understand what that has to do with Auror training."

"Yes, you do. You are just choosing to be obtuse. Obviously, I got mad because I also don't want to be in school. You have always wanted to be an Auror, so you work hard, and even when you get bored, you a see a purpose behind it all. I…well, I mean, I always just thought I'd be a Zabini. No real work involved in that, beyond societal obligations and the random committees, and overseeing the company from afar. I didn't want this. And even if I have to work, I don't need a status job. I want to…"

"What? What is it you want to be doing?"

"Harry, your favourite dessert is treacle tart, right?"

Potter laughed, "How do you know that? Been reading _Witch Weekly_ again, have we?"

Blaise felt his cheeks colour, knowing his answer was actually more embarrassing than that, "I mean, I just noticed…we eat together in the cafeteria all the time."

Harry studied his face for a moment before breaking out into a grin and nodding. It was hard to keep thinking of him as Potter as he sat there, casually dressed, on the floor of his flat. It was disastrous, and he was kicking himself for acting like his mother and owling before he thought. Still, he'd backed himself into a corner now. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out the tart he'd made a few days earlier. It was only missing a small slice where he'd tried it; he'd been trying to sort out what had made Potter's face melt into blissful happiness that day at lunch. Now, he cast a quick warming charm over a slice and brought it to Harry without a word.

"I mean, thanks mate, but-"

"Just. Try it."

So Potter scooped some, characteristically ungraceful, into his mouth. He was silent for a moment as he ate it. He took another bite, and this time, his eyes slid closed, an involuntary small noise that was almost a groan coming from his mouth (and going straight to Blaise's cock, but he was going to ignore that for now).

"This is amazing," Potter muttered between bites. "Where'd it come from?"

"I made it. I think…I think that I could do it. Bake I mean. For a living. I know it'll be hard; early hours, start-up costs. But the thing is, that work seems far more appealing to me than any of this," Blaise sighed again. He scrubbed his face and sat back down. "I think I'm insane, so it's fine if you say so too."

"I-" Harry seemed to stop himself. "Blaise, this is the best treacle I've ever had, and I am a tough critic of treacle, let me tell you. Why is it insane to do what you want to do? Or at least give it a go? It would be insane to unnecessarily put yourself through something like Auror training when you know you could be doing something else."

"Yes," Blaise said quietly. "But…"

"What?"

"Well, I mean. What if I fail?"

"Then you fail," Potter said lightly, almost laughing at him. "Just like everyone, Blaise. You are really not that special, my friend."

"Well, I'm glad you are finding this amusing."

"Look, Blaise, I think that right now, it's late. You are tired, and upset. You need to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll meet you for coffee or something? We can talk. I'm not saying don't quit, but just…get some sleep."

Blaise nodded. Potter wasn't wrong.

"Do you…you can stay, if you need to."

Potter did laugh this time, "Where, Z? You need to get this flat in order, you know. It'll make you feel better, Hermione taught me that. I'll just Apparate. Floo me tomorrow, though, yeah?"

"Sure. Sorry, Potter. For making you come."

"Don't apologize. That's what friends are for," Potter said, shaking his head and walking toward the door. Blaise let him leave, raising a hand in answer to his wave. There was no reason to stop him, despite the fact that he wanted to. Merlin, did he want to stop him.

"Zabini, you have got to get your head on straight," he said to himself, the empty flat echoing it back. "That boy _does not_ want you the same way you want him. You're going to embarrass yourself."

He rinsed glasses in the sink and forced himself to lie down. He didn't actually sleep for ages, his mind was racing. He kept replaying the fight with Draco, the interaction with Potter. The sound of him eating that tart was playing in surround sound in his skull.


	3. Sometimes A Thing Gets Broke

Over the next few weeks, Potter dragged him out of his misery, largely against his will. Blaise hadn't wallowed in a long time, and he felt like his post-war self hadn't really processed anything. He had been almost excited to just well and truly wallow. After all, if you couldn't self-destruct and rebuild your life at 20, when could you? It made him feel like he was allowed to just be sad.

But he _had_ met Potter the next day for that first coffee, where he had showed up with a brand new diary. One of gorgeous brown leather, with a classic ribbon marker and thick, buttery pages; he had clearly run out that morning to buy it. And as wonderful as it had been as a gift for a man about to start a new venture, Blaise had been given no opportunity to wallow. Potter had planned things for him. He'd found out how Blaise could leave the program, if that's what he decided he really wanted. He made lists, and helped him research the feasibility of opening his own coffee shop or bakery. He quit school that Monday; Belvedere had barely tried to stop him. He knew the statistics, though; only a third of the class usually graduated, and he just decided he didn't need to be a part of that third. He felt a weight lift off him the second he left the building, reconfirming his suspicion that he was making right choice. He expected that Potter would move on, now, being too busy with the course, and having no more obligation to help him. Mysteriously, however, Harry kept showing up for coffee, helping him plan things out, finding him contacts by shamelessly throwing his name around ('I have to live with it anyway,' he'd say. 'It might as well do some good for a change'.)

And more importantly, he started dragging Blaise to _things_. Potter made him hang out with his friends at the pub. He made him join them when they went to see Ginevra Weasley play Quidditch. Harry even made him come to Ron's birthday party. He knew the goal, to make sure Blaise made other friends. He appreciated the intention, but it was rather a lot of Gryffindors all at once. Not that they weren't being kind. In fact, they were being kinder than he likely deserved, and in a concerning, unquestioning kind of way. He had anticipated the anger that Potter had shown from the beginning, but Ron had apparently just decided to put up with him after Harry had started accepting him at Auror training. Hermione, who had started off reserved and cautious around him, had started to open up. He didn't know why the change had occurred, since he only remembered one conversation of any substance he'd had with her, while she helped him carry drinks back to the table. It had been maybe four sentences, something like;

"So, Harry tells me you came back to the castle, during the battle."

"I did."

"Did you lose anyone?"

"We all lost people…We all lost _anyone_ who died."

"Too right. I'm just going to nip to the loo."

That had been it; whether or not it was because the rest of their friends took their cues from the 'golden trio' (and he had to admit, Draco's nickname was accurate), he had no idea. But it had shifted things, and suddenly he was greeted with warmth. Even when he arrived on his own, before Harry- easy to do since he was no longer at school, and Harry had taken on extra responsibilities. Ron would shake his hand. Their friend Neville, who he knew he had probably been nasty to on more than one occasion (one time in Herbology stood out in his mind), would ask how the flat was coming along. And slowly, but slowly, he suddenly had a bunch of new friends. Friends who would owl him and ask after him independently of Harry. He hung out at Ginny and Neville's new flat, had help when he decided to paint, and took Luna Lovegood up on her offers of contacts in the business world of Diagon Alley.

He carried on this way for about two months. He was doing what he could, and he felt like there was a chance he was actually going to end up with the bakery. He and Luna had even found a space, but now they were in weird negotiations with the elderly witch who owned it and lived upstairs. She had advertised for a tenant, but when they had shown up asking about the letting, she had shook her head and told them to come back the next day. For a week, he had been baking her a new, bizarre dessert every day, and he would show up at her door at 4 pm. She would take the treat, stare at him for a moment and then say 'come back again tomorrow'. So he would. He wasn't sure _why_ he did. But he did.

He wasn't being naïve. Quitting Auror training had not made his life perfect; there were issues he couldn't always ignore. His flat was awesome, with new furniture, and bookshelves for his books. A kitchen with plants hanging from the walls. But, Harry had been wrong on this one. He still hated it there. It was still too silent, still felt empty, and was still representative of all the things he had lost in the new world order. It meant he wasn't getting much sleep, and he was spending copious amounts of time trying to avoid being there.

And there was still the issue of Draco. No matter how much his life changed, or how busy he was, he felt Draco's absence completely, and not just because now he didn't get to sleep on the sofa in the gorgeous loft.

Now it was Friday, and he was on his way home after his latest bizarre staring conversation with Lady Brightley. He was on autopilot, mentally trying to decide whether or not he was going to go out to Ginny's that night to hang out with the Quidditch team at their weekly BBQ. He was so lost in his own thoughts, he almost stepped on the figure sitting on his front steps.

"Er, sorry. Are you waiting for someone?" he said, only looking down as he got to the end of his sentence, only then realizing that it was Katie. He managed to remember that he didn't actually know her, hadn't actually met her, and didn't make it more awkward than it was by acting like he did.

"Um, Hi. Blaise? I…I'm Katie. Bell. Draco's…friend. Can we talk?"

"Might depend. Did he send you?"

"He doesn't know I'm here. I'm…he's worrying me. He quit school, but I think you knew he was going to. The thing is…he's all despondent now. He hasn't actually done anything since. He just sits in the flat, reading old potions books."

"I thought he was going to go run the pub?"

"Me too. Blaise, he needs you. Or at least to have this stupid fight be over. You both know it wasn't about anything. You quit too, right? Ginny mentioned. Please. He's meeting me at the Leaky. Please just come and meet him."

"Katie, it's not that simple. He and I-"

"Blaise, let me stop you. I'm pure blood too. I know all the rules. We both know it's all bullshit. You two have been through so much. Is it really worth it?"

Blaise stood there and decided he should probably at least try. It was weird not being able to talk all this change through with Draco; for better or worse, through competition and angst, through a war for crying out loud, he and Draco had been sage council to each other. There had been times when they hadn't been the best of friend's, times when Draco's derision and arrogance had been too much for Blaise. But ultimately, common room friends are common room friends; after long days, the emotions of boarding school, the trials of being a teenager, common room friends were there to hear you whine, know all your secrets, and forgive you all your sins. The truth was the truth. He missed Draco.

He felt himself nod, and a few minutes later he was Apparating after Katie, terrified of what the situation he was putting himself into. He let Katie walk into the bar first, and smiled to himself as he saw that ridiculously familiar blond head break into a humungous smile when he saw her; he couldn't believe he was still deluding himself into believing that he wasn't with Katie. He was clearly in love with her.

He watched as Katie hugged him, said something softly. Watched as his face fell into one of shock and anger. That was the face he knew better; Draco annoyed. It was strangely comforting, and he forced himself forward into the bar.

"Zabini."

"Malfoy."

"Dear lord, you two. Sit. Drink. Talk. I'm going to go sit back there with my friends. Fix this," Katie said, throwing her hands up.

Blaise pointedly sat down at the bar and ordered a butter beer.

"How have you been?"

"Cut the crap, B. Why are you here? Just because of Katie."

"No, not just. Draco, can we please just…I quit school. I'm going to open a bakery."

Draco inhaled deeply. Blaise waited; the inhale was a good sign. He was preparing to let it go, to take the high road.

"That's…oddly perfect. Good for you," Draco said. The words were Draco, but the tone was still cold.

"Katie says you quit too? How's that going?"

"I...not great, honestly. After I dropped out, I sort of lost momentum. I think I sort of just needed a break, needed time to feel sorry for myself. It has gone on a little longer than I intended, but. Anyway."

Blaise laughed lightly, "I know what you mean. If Harry hadn't forced me to-"

"Hang on," Draco said, spinning on his seat to face him. " _Harry._ Potter is _Harry_ now? Since when? I thought we talked about this."

Blaise stuttered for a minute before regaining his composure. "I'm sorry, what? We 'talked' about this? About what? Me being friends with someone other than _you_? In case you haven't noticed, Draco, you haven't exactly been around."

"Yeah, well, same to you. You can't trust him, Blaise."

"Draco, enough. You don't even _know_ him. Besides, you're with Katie, you aren't really in a place to judge."

"I'm not _with_ -"

"Oh come on, D! Why are you fighting that? She clearly makes you happy, and she definitely likes you too."

"You can't say anything; you don't know _her_ either."

"Yeah, well who's fault is that, Malfoy. Doesn't change the fact that I'm here because of her; she cares about you. She was trying to fix this."

"Yes, well clearly she was misguided," Draco was standing up now. "Look, B. I miss you, too. That fight was stupid. But Potter…he ruined our lives. He made school a nightmare half the time. I can't be friends with him."

"I don't recall asking you to be."

"Yeah, but Blaise, you clearly want to be, and I…I just can't. Look, consider yourself forgiven, or whatever. For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. But maybe…maybe this is just adulthood. Maybe this is us growing apart, changing. We can fight it, or we can just move on."

"Draco-"

"Just. Take care of yourself, Blaise. If you see Katie, tell her I went home, please."

To the casual spectator, it would have looked like Draco was leaving a passing acquaintance at the bar in quite a hurry. To Blaise, it looked like what it actually was; Draco Malfoy aggressively closing the door on their friendship.

* * *

 

Four hours had passed since Draco had stormed out, not that Blaise knew how much time It had been. His head only came off the bar when he needed to take another sip. It had started as a quite frequent event, but it had been a while since he'd bothered.

"Zabini? That you?" a voice behind him said, dripped with concern. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it sounded familiar.

"You alright, mate?" the voice was closer. Insistent. He decided he was going to have to raise his head.

"Ron," he said, but the word, though short, was a bit fuzzy.

"Yeah. Um, you okay? Hey, Harry! Blaise!" Ron shouted over the noise of the bar, pointing down at Blaise.

Harry walked over with a grin on his face, one that slowly faltered as he got closer to the bar.

"Hey, Z. Didn't think you were coming out tonight…everything…you alright? You don't look so good."

Blaise tried to smile. Tried to stand up. It was not a good plan. He swerved and swayed. He had forgotten to stand up again. Forgotten to stand up in between drinks and gauge how drunk he was.

"Fine," he managed. "I…think I…home."

The cloud of worry that crossed over his friend's faces just barely made it past the haze.

"Don't, worry don't," he tried again. "Going home."

"Blaise, who are you here with? Did you…did you come to the pub alone? Have you been here, just, um…drinking alone?"

Blaise was annoyed at Harry now, with his smug tone and judgement. Hermione showed up, took one look at Blaise, and turned to Ron for explanation. Blaise stepped forward with the intention of telling Harry off, but immediately lost his balance and ended up stopping himself by reaching out his hands to Harry's chest. He rebalanced, using the time as an excuse to touch the soft fabric that ensconced firm pecs and strong shoulders. Harry's hands had immediately reached out to hold his elbows to stop him from falling, and Blaise was embarrassingly unable to breath at the simple, meaningless touch. He really needed out of here before Potter worked this out, and he freaked out his last remaining friends.

"Okay," said Hermione calmly. "Let's sit you back down before you injure someone."

She guided him back to the seat gently and turned to her friends. Blaise simultaneously heard, and did not register their conversation. Most of his energy was going toward not falling off the really crooked stool he was sitting on. Seriously. He should complain to someone. They shouldn't have bar stools this weirdly sloped.

"Harry, he needs to go home."

"Yes, thank you Hermione. I had worked that one out, shockingly. But…"

"Oh, Harry. Come on."

"Mione, you know I can't."

"Alright. Ron and I will take him back to the house, yeah?"

"What?"

"Leave it, Ron. Let's go, before he hurts himself. Merlin, he is really _very_ drunk, isn't he."

The next thing Blaise knew, he was being crushed into the nothingness of Apparition. And then, his shoes seemed to be off. And then he was horizontal. He briefly wondered if he had lost the battle with the stool, before he fell into complete oblivion.

* * *

 

When he awoke, it was to instantaneous anguish. Obviously, he'd drunk something. But why? He couldn't remember why. He also had no clue whose bed this was, but it became quite a secondary passing thought when he noted that he was still in his clothes. He would walk of shame, then, head off before he had to face people. The coward's way out, perhaps, but necessary. Now, he only needed to find his shoes.

He walked out to the corridor and was immediately overwhelmed. Both ends of the dank corridor led to drop offs that were clearly stairwells, and the house looked old. Portraits and dingy paint littered the walls, and the carpets beneath his feet were old and tattered, though clearly once they had been very expensive and well made.

He felt a wave of nausea hit him and balanced himself on the wall. The act of stillness calmed the blood rushing through his ears and his stomach settled. He listened closely, Auror tactics flowing unbidden through him. Which was good, because it meant he heard chatting and laughter coming from the staircase to the left. He followed it down, listening to the voices, and found himself in a large, warm study. There were plants everywhere, and it smelled like fresh air and light. It was so different from the upstairs corridor that Blaise stopped dead for a moment taking it in. When he noticed that Ron and Hermione had both stopped talking and were watching him closely, he startled a tiny bit.

"Alright, mate? You were in rough shape last night," Ron said softly.

"Where…where am I? Where's Harry?"

Ron smiled indulgently.

"Grimmauld place...er, Black family house. Harry inherited it. We all live here…temporarily, that is, but. Anyway. And Harry, he didn't come home last night," Ron winked. "Hasn't been coming home quite a few evenings, actually. Must have decided to fully embrace that new lifestyle he's realized he wants."

Blaise was suddenly very awake. Ron's laugh grated on his already thin nerves, and it was made worse by the fact that he was irrationally angry and jealous. He had no right to be jealous, which of course made him even more angry. There were others, of course there were others. Just because Potter was his friend now gave him no right to be possessive of his time. His hopeless and stupid crush was no excuse. There were people with far more claim to anger and jealousy over the leisure activities of Harry Potter. He sighed and scrubbed his face wearily.

"Ron, lay off. He's hungover, poor bastard. Get him some tea, would you dear? And some crackers or something? Please?" Hermione's sweet tone was strange, but Ron was obviously too blissfully used to following her beckon call to notice. He stood at once.

"Maybe throw me together a sandwich, too, darling? Blaise? Bacon roll?"

He felt himself nod, Hermione's expression significant enough for him to tacitly agree for some reason, although the thought of food made him want to gag. Ron sighed, but nodded as well, kissing Hermione on the head as he left, muttering 'Your wish, my command' as he did.

Hermione watched him leave and then immediately snapped back to Blaise. He took a step back, shocked by her sudden change in demeanour, suddenly very aware that he had not known this woman very long, and had no idea what her intentions were with him or his life. He panicked slightly, realizing he could do nothing to protect himself right now. His wand was upstairs on the bedside table.

"You, listen here, Blaise Zabini," Hermione whispered harshly. "Harry wasn't at some bloke's last night. He stayed at Luna's. He was avoiding you. He's been doing that a lot lately, and I'm fed up. He likes you, okay. Like, actually _likes_ you. I'm starting to understand why, and I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Granger-"

"No, I said listen. So that's it. He likes you. And because I'm not as thick as those two, merlin help me, I know _you_ like him, too. Don't. Don't even try to argue. I've seen the way you watch him. You are not very subtle."

Blaise looked down at the ground, suddenly ashamed. He was actually pretty sure he _was_ subtle, but clearly, Hermione was a noticer, much like himself. He should have been more careful around her.

"So will you please just act on it? Because he's never going to. He has no idea what to do, and he's too noble to ruin your friendship. He's worried about you, and you are so busy being worried about yourself, and worried about Draco, to even notice. Enough is enough. He likes you, you like him. I don't know what happened last night, but it can't keep happening. He's not here because he didn't trust himself to be around you. Do you understand me?"

Blaise saw no choice but to nodded slowly, trying to ignore the pounding it caused in his head.

"I'm sorry, about last night. I saw Draco and-"

"Not me you need to tell this story too. You don't owe us an apology. We've all had nights like that. Friends are for getting your drunk arse home once in a while. I'm sorry we didn't take you back to your flat, but we've never been."

"I'm happy you didn't. I hate it there," he responded, grinning sheepishly.

"Zabini, I promised I wouldn't tell Ron, but…we made a promise to each other a long time ago, the three of us. No more secrets. It's starting to wear on my mind."

"I know. That isn't fair. You can tell him, Hermione. I…I'm going to do something about it."

"You are?"

"Yes. I kept meaning to, but…Listen, Potter- Harry. He's the first new friend I've had in a long time. He listened when I told him my story. He let me explain, and then he forgave me. That's a big deal. I'm scared. I'm scared to lose him. To lose all of you."

"Harry dated Ginny."

"What? Yeah, I know. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Ginny and Harry are still close, still friends. He isn't like that; he doesn't throw people away. He's nearly incapable of being spiteful. It's almost dangerous, how willing he is to forgive people."

Blaise considered her words for a moment, then nodded again and sat down. He was suddenly hungry. He almost leapt up again when he heard a telltale pop, followed by opening doors and the muttering of dispelling wards.

"Hiya! It's pissing it down out- Blaise. Morning. You…uh, feeling better?"

Blaise had indeed, been feeling better, until Harry had shown up, soaking wet and looking terrified of talking to him. His throat had now gone dry.

Hermione stood up, "Harry, tea and toast? You and Blaise need to talk."

Harry nodded lamely, but didn't move.

"Harry…" Blaise started. He suddenly had a lump in his throat. He was going to just say it. He was going to tell Harry, and make it something they both knew, and just let the chips fall where they may. He cleared his throat, but the words that came out were not what he intended. "Harry, I think I've lost Draco."

"Blaise," Harry said, shoulders falling in sympathy. "It's going to be okay, you guys will get through-"

"No, Harry. Wait. You don't understand. I think I've lost Draco…so I could keep you."


	4. In Case You Were Wondering

"You lost Draco to...keep me? Blaise, I don't know what-"

"Yes, you know what I mean. Or at least, you will in a minute. You're brilliant, just a bit slow on the uptake," he stood up from the table and took a step forward. _Now or never_ , he admonished himself.

"I…I really appreciate everything you've done for me these past few months. You had no reason to trust me, to believe me, and you did. I'm…well, I'm very quiet when I don't know people. I'm too sheltered, I know that about myself. It comes across as…I mean, I know you all thought I was a snob, an asshole- a death eater sympathizer. You had no reason to listen to me tell you I wasn't. I think that's why it started, I was just really grateful for your white knight-ness, but I feel like I've owed you this information for a while, and I was just protecting myself and our friendship. But I'm starting to think I've just been a bit of a coward…"

Blaise trailed off to breathe for a moment, trying to decide if he was going to go on. Harry's face was just confused, which almost made him laugh; he really was very slow on the uptake.

"Blaise, I seriously don't understand. What are you on about, protecting our friendship? What did you do? There's no need to-"

"I'm falling in love with you. I think I have been for a while. I was just going to leave it, ignore my feelings, but Hermione...Well, Hermione suggested it might be worth it to say something. I…I value your friendship, and I don't need anything from you that you aren't looking for. But I just feel like I needed you to know. I'm done lying, to myself or anyone else, about what I want."

Harry had frozen completely, he was staring at Blaise, and Blaise was wilting under the power of it. He felt a shiver go down his spine when he finished his stupid speech, and watched Harry mouth the word _want_ , almost unconsciously. Blaise held his breath. It was strange, really. He had never had anything else in his life make him stop breathing, yet he spent a copious amount of time around Potter gasping for air. Technically, it made sense because nothing other than Potter had ever turned him into this; vocal, pushy, taking risks and making gambles. It wasn't him. Blaise Zabini played it safe, stayed in the background, stayed silent whenever possible. Potter made him question if that was the best personality he could have, and he just kept taking chance after chance.

The moment where he waited for Harry's brain to catch up was excruciating. It felt like hours.

"Hermione shouldn't have said anything," he finally whispered, dropping his gaze and looking at the ground.

Blaise shook his head, but sensed that he shouldn't say anything. Sure enough, Harry continued a moment later.

"Z…I mean, your whole life is up in the air right now. And Draco, you shouldn't have to give him up, especially for someone like me, right now. Remember when you asked me if the rumors were true? I hadn't even stopped to consider my own fucking sexuality until you asked. I don't know what I'm doing, at all. Not even remotely. Plus, I'm a shitty…boyfriend, not that that's what you're asking for, but still. Just ask Ginny."

"So, you don't want to try?"

"I didn't say that," Harry said sharply, looking back into Blaise's eyes. "God, Blaise. You are gorgeous, do you even know that? But that's not enough. We barely even know each other, and I've never…I've never let myself feel this way about another…I just need five minutes. Let my brain catch up. I've spent the last two months staring at you and trying not to stare at you, and yelling at myself every time I did anyway."

Blaise laughed lightly, taking another step. Then another. Suddenly, he was in Potter's personal space, and he was pretty sure he hadn't ever been there before (if he ignored last night, which he planned to). He heard Harry inhale.

"Harry, me too. I'm shocked that with all that time staring at each other, we didn't end up staring _at_ each other."

He knew he wasn't making much sense, but he also knew he was no longer in full control of his own actions. It was out of his control when he reached out and took Harry's hand, pulled him against his own body, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. This action completed, he backed away immediately. He felt like he was pushing things beyond what Harry was ready for.

"Just, take your time. I'm here, when you come to your senses. I have somewhere to be right now."

"I...okay."

Without pause, he headed toward the corridor by the front door Harry had just entered from. Blaise should have left straight away; he had every intention of walking out the front door and Apparating from the street. He walked out of the room where Harry stood, and paused to catch his breath. He heard murmuring from the room he'd just left. The logical, rational part of his brain told him to leave anyway.

He cast an amplifying charm instead, and stood very silent, very still. The voices, of course, continued, unaware of his intrusion;

"Harry."

"Ron, I didn't realize you were here."

"Harry, you have got to be joking."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. I heard the whole thing. And now I am telling you you can't be serious. I mean…Look, mate, we all tried very hard to let him in when it mattered, when you had to work with him in training. And fine, he's been okay. Luna likes having him around, and stuff. But dating him, Harry? He's still a Slytherin. He's still friends with _Draco Malfoy._ How can you trust him?"

"Ron," Harry sounded a bit desperate. "You don't know him. He's not like them."

"Ron," Hermione's voice joined the conversation, though of course Blaise had no way of knowing if she too had heard everything he had said. He felt his cheeks colour, though he could hardly do anything about it now. Bloody Gryffindors, getting into his business.

"He's right," Hermione continued. "We don't know him. You have to trust _Harry_ , no one else."

"Wait," Ron's voice was raised this time. "You're _supporting_ this plan? You…you already knew."

"Ron," Harry's tone was warning. "Leave her alone. I asked her not to tell you."

"Well...even ignoring the fact that you both left me out of the loop _as usual_ , now I am the only voice of reason. Also as bloody usual. Seriously, Hare…Why him?"

"Ron, I don't know. I haven't gotten that far. It's hardly a fair question, coming from you. More importantly, you liked him until this moment. Is this about Ginny? Because you know she's happy right now, right?"

"It's not...It's not about Ginny. And it's not about the gay thing, before you even ask. I don't care about that. I just don't understand why it has to be a _Slytherin_."

Harry suddenly laughed, which was confusing for Blaise, since he wasn't actually in the room and could not see what was going on. He just shook his head and listened again.

"Your concern is duly noted, Ron. Are you going to manage to be civilized?"

There was a pause, before Ron responded, "I suppose I'll have to try. Wait, you're not harbouring dreams of quitting Auror training too, are you?"

"No," Harry laughed. "Speaking of which, we can finish this conversation later. I have to go finish those case files with McAlister before Monday."

Blaise barely had time to process the farewell statement, had just scrambled to pull himself off the wall and was standing stupidly in the middle of the entryway when Harry appeared, starting slightly at seeing him there.

They looked at each other for a moment, before Harry chuckled lightly.

"I assume you heard all of that?"

"What? No- I-"

"Oh come on, Blaise, we both know you amplified it the second you heard Ron. You heard it, then. You know what you're up against…you still up for it?"

Blaise was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, and so he just nodded.

"Good. Now that I've thought about it though, I take issue with your 'love' statement. I don't actually think you know me well enough for that. We'll have to work on that."

Blaise nodded again.

"Good. Here's one fact for free. I don't sleep here. Or, I can't, I should say. Haven't been able to since the war. I sleep in Luna's spare bedroom. The floos are connected directly. I've never slept here, actually. Hermione just found out. I had to make up something quick, but my brain shut off and instead, I told her about you, just to get her off my back. Which has either backfired, or played out perfectly, depending."

Blaise blinked, his brain still trying to stop being embarrassed at being caught out. It was stupid, really, because Harry didn't seem to care. In fact, they seemed to have completely reversed their earlier rolls, with Blaise unnecessarily flustered and Harry light and joyful.

"I know, why don't I just move, right? I will, once Ron and Hermione have a place. They're just starting out, and this place is free. It's fine. Luna doesn't mind. We just won't tell Ron, he'll end up guilty."

"Okay," was all Blaise managed to whisper.

"I think he sometimes notices I'm not home."

"He thinks you're sleeping around," Blaise admitted, whispering still, not looking at Harry.

This made Harry bark with laughter again.

"Well, I'll have to make sure I keep up that act, won't I? Don't you have somewhere to be? Or was that an exaggeration," Harry teased, eyes gleaming again.

"No, I do," Blaise said, embarrassment colouring his tone.

"Well then, let's make a plan. Are you coming to the legacy game next week?"

"I hadn't decided."

"You should. I'm playing, but then…maybe we can hang out a bit? Just us, I mean. Hogsmeade maybe?"

"How nostalgic."

"Perhaps. You want to?"

Blaise smiled, finding himself shy again, which felt odd since he was typically the organizer, the planner.

"I'd love to."

"Perfect. We're all leaving from portkey at the Leaky at nine."

"Okay. I…I guess I'll see you then?"

"Probably not until. This week is mental."

"Bloody Auror training," Blaise said, laughing and regaining some of his composure. He followed Harry who held the door open for him, and walked down past the wards on the house, ready to Apparate.

"Hey, Z?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad. That you know, now? I'm really glad."

"Me too. Bye, Harry."

"Till Saturday, Zabini. Stay out of trouble," Harry said, winking. Again. The flirting felt more intentional this time, and Blaise laughed all the way into his Apparition turn.

 

The week flew by in a flurry of anticipation and tasks, and before he knew it, he was in a frenzied panic on Saturday morning because he had overslept. He just ran in the door in time to grab the old hat portkey that Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were all holding. Harry doesn't say anything, but grins at him, as Luna grabs hold of the brim of the hat and they spiral into the bone crushing, lung dragging horror or Portkey. Once you got used to it, Apparition stopped feeling weird, but Blaise was pretty sure he was always going to hate using the damned Portkeys. It didn't help that he'd been raised to believe they were common; Purebloods travelled by Floo.

When they landed on the road to Hogsmeade a few seconds later, Blaise had to shake himself for a second to regain his balance. Which he almost immediately lost again when Harry bumped his shoulder.

"Hey, stranger. We didn't think you were going to show up. You okay? You look exhausted."

"Fine. Had a long week," Blaise said, smiling at Harry broadly, feeling as intrigued as he had all week about what being more than his friend might end up being like. It felt like a very bizarre way to start a relationship, with everything in the open like this, like some sort of weird contract.

"Anything you need to talk about?" Harry said, a slight amount of worry creasing his brow.

Blaise shook his head, "All good things. I'll tell you about it later. Don't want to distract the star alumni."

"Hey, now!" shouted Ginny. "He may be the seeker today, but he isn't _the_ star."

Everyone laughed and Blaise smiled, taking in the sight. Harry and Ginny were both kitted out, Gryffindor robes fitting differently than they might have three years ago, but they both looked excited and ready. Harry, in fact, looked even fitter than normal; Quidditch breeches and burgundy shin guards, robes not done up, pads and broom slung over his shoulder. Athletic Potter had always been fit, even in school, but Blaise had never been this close to him, and the effect was astonishing. He took a deep breath, only just convincing himself that he was still of kilter from the portkey. Only the portkey.

They were nearing the gates now, and he noted that the small and increasingly ancient Flitwick was at the entrance, greeting people. When they approached, their ragtag troop was received with excited whoops from the tiny wizard, including himself, to his slight shock. He was used to being with Draco when he saw people from his past; the reception wasn't normally very warm.

"Mr. Zabini! Good to have you. Hope you've been keeping up with your charms! You do all know, your friend here, always the best in your year at producing locking and unlocking charms…fair shot at summoning, too. Right, enjoy your day! Fantastic weather!"

They continued onto the grounds, and Blaise took a sharp breath looking around. It was a beautiful day, Flitwick was right. Students were everywhere, taking the advantage of the carnival like atmosphere, eating and lounging despite the early hour. The grounds were still a bit shaky; there were corners he could see even from this angle that were full of rubble. Still, the bridges had been rebuilt, the front steps reconstructed. There had been so much progress. He felt his throat close over, his eyes fill. He wished he'd been present, for any of it. Any of the rebuild. He was irrationally angry at Draco, though he knew it wasn't his fault. He hadn't been back for three years. They'd run away to Spain the first year, with Pansy and Daph, during the memorial. They'd never come to the rebuild weekends. Draco had been fighting some pretty strong prejudice and anger, and at the time, he reminded himself, it had been the right decision to support his friend.

Harry looked sidelong at him.

"Oh," he said quietly, so that only Blaise could possibly have heard him. "You haven't been back? Don't worry. It gets easier."

"You two, you'd better get to practice. Hooch will have your heads…you know three years isn't enough to soften her up!" Neville laughed, kissing Ginny soundly before heading off towards the castle.

"You'd better be watching, Zabini. Watch as I single handily beat Ginny."

"We're on the same team, Potty!" she teased.

Blaise laughed, shouting "Good luck!" at Harry's quickly retreating back. Harry turned around and gave him such a megawatt eat-shit-grin that had Blaise not had his wits about him, he may have chased after the dark haired man and snogged him senseless in front of everyone. He shook his head again, although it didn't actually clear his head at all.

"Zabini, breakfast?" Ron called back to him.

He followed them up the new stone steps, which looked exactly like the old steps, but lacked any of the gravity or history, and made him sad. In the entrance hall, Blaise was suddenly overwhelmed. He forced himself to enter the Great Hall behind his…well, his friends, which was still a bit weird. And realized the problem immediately; the four familiar long tables were there, banners waving over them, a cheery blue sky on the enchanted ceiling. The dining hall was actually pretty empty, but it didn't negate the fact that they were going to have to choose where to eat. These people he was with, they were all Gryffindors. Well, not Luna, but still. They didn't hesitate even slightly before heading to the place they had always sat, but he didn't immediately follow them.

He froze instead, and felt ridiculous.

"Oi, you coming?" Ron said

"Um, don't think I'm all that hungry, actually. I may just…catch you up. At the game?"

"Okay," Ron said hesitatingly. He seemed to think for a minute, considering the man's dark features, as though seeing him for the first time. He felt scrutinized, and he choked up slightly. Ron shook his head and continued. "Blaise, just remember. It doesn't actually matter, right? You could sit with us. No one cares. Not anymore."

Blaise wanted to cry again. He nodded.

"I know, but thanks for saying it. I'm just a bit…it's a lot. I'll see you at the game, yeah?"

"You'd better. Harry'll kill you if you don't watch. He's all ready to show off."

Blaise laughed, but Ron grew serious again.

"It probably goes without saying that if you prove me right about you, about this thing with Harry, I _will_ end you."

"Understood," Blaise said, extending his hand, and smiling when Ron shook it.

He wandered back out of the hall, and followed his feet absently. The inside of the castle was in much better shape than the grounds. There was little evidence of that horrific night, nearly four years ago. There was nothing to say that people had died; nothing was broken, portraits intact, and statues back in place. It was very odd. It hurt him a little bit, frankly.

He wasn't fully aware of where he was going, as he contemplated and reminisced, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of the damp, dank wall of the common room. The sconces were back in place, flickering silently. Of course, it was utterly pointless for him to be here. He didn't know the password. Still, there was comfort in the brick, comfort in the smell, comfort in the soft and subtle sounds of the lake above. These things had always been comforting.

He sat on the floor, staring at the spot where the door would appear, and cried. He well and truly cried. He felt every moment, every time he had carelessly smashed through this corridor, thought of every fight he'd ever had. His first kiss, with a drunken sixth year boy, had been up against this very wall. It was at once surreal, and beautiful, and incredibly painful. He let himself grieve; for the loss of those who'd died. For the loss of his expected future. For Draco. He let himself feel, which he often avoided by pretending he was bored in times of rest, or by being silent in times where noise and anger would have been better.

He leapt up when he heard a noise, and ended up scaring a small student who rounded the corner.

"Er, sorry. I was just going," he said, feeling guilty for no reason.

"Are you Zabini? Blaise Zabini?" the kid said.

"Um, yes."

"There's a picture of you, in there. You were in the battle. I wasn't here, I'm only in second year. Are you here for the game?"

He nodded.

"You want to come in? You can, if you want."

"I think that'd be weird,"

"Nah. No one is even in there. They're all outside. I'll let you in."

Blaise felt himself nod again, although he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Still, he followed the kid into the common room, awash, as usual, with the undulating green light from the lake. The kid was right, no one was sitting in the common room at all.

It was as beautiful as he remembered it. The sleek walls and high arching ceilings, the comfortable chairs, the ubiquitous chess boards set up in the corner, the bookshelves and small tables squished together in one corner to maximize space. He shivered, and then chuckled to himself. It was always freezing in here, no matter how big the fires were built. It meant some of his best memories were of sitting late into the night, squashed onto a couch with too many people, piled together and cuddled for warmth, confessing secrets and playing ludicrous games.

He loved the feeling of remembering, but somehow it felt all wrong. He walked the perimeter of the room, looking at the new additions; the corkboard with clubs and notices, the portraits that had changed. Sure enough, he found a small memorial wall, noting students in Slytherin who had died, and those who had fought. He was more surprised to find a smiling photo of Draco on the wall than he was to see anyone else. This was right, and appropriate, but it still made him smile to himself.

Still, it was enough. This was enough. He looked around one more time, nodded to himself, thanked the kid, and swung himself back outside the common room.

Blaise spent the next half hour wandering the castle grounds, finding the places that he had always loved, trying to decide if they had changed. The tree by the lake, the corner by the forest, the brick where he had scratched his name into it on the base of the North tower. He finally walked down to the stands to find the Gryffindors. He felt less like he was suffering the ghosts of the past; he was just going to make peace with it and be happily nostalgic like most people today. He felt better by the time he sat down with his new friends.

The alumni game was hilariously fun. Sure, he'd always liked Quidditch, and a game on a nice day was one of the best things. But it was more than that. McGonagall's idea had been a good one; bring back Alumni players to play against a team of current students from every house. There were no real sides, and everyone cheered every point. It was very hilarious to watch the ragtag bunch of players in their old house uniforms play their hardest against the younger students, all wearing black Hogwarts warm-up jackets instead of house colours. Blaise, of course, spent a lot of time watching Harry. When Harry spun into a classic Potter dive, he stood up and cheered, correctly anticipating the end of the game. The plan had been for Ginny and Harry to change and meet them in the stands for the next game, but Blaise suddenly couldn't sit still anymore. He slipped away quickly, without explaining to the others. He waited by the edge of the pitch.

"Hey!" Harry said, having spotted him. "I thought I was coming up to meet you?"

"I know. Do you have to get changed right away? I want to show you something."

"Nah, as long as you don't mind the post flight shambles look," Harry said, a wicked grin on his face. He was obviously elated, high on the adrenaline of flying again, and the win.

Blaise didn't plan on telling him the truth, at least not right now. The reality that right now- with hair windswept beyond any hope, a sheen of sweat and ruddy cheeks, mud smeared on both boots and kit- Blaise definitely didn't _mind_ the way Harry looked. He didn't plan on telling him that he had actually never been more attractive. Or that this was the way he had first noticed Harry Potter as a bloke, instead of Harry Potter the Child Star.

And definitely not that that first noticing had been almost six years ago.

"Perfect," he said instead. "Come on."

He turned and walked underneath the twisting stands, hearing and trusting that Harry was behind him.

"Blaise, where exactly are we going."

"Not far, just around this corner."

"What-"

But they had reached where he wanted to be, and he turned and pointed out from under the stands.

"Just look."

Harry turned and looked toward where he was pointing, walking a step closer to Blaise in the process.

"Is that the lake?"

"Yup. Look closer."

"Is that...whoa. I've never seen it."

"I figured. Not many people have who aren't Slytherin. She comes up during the games and sits near the surface. I discovered it once because I was…down here, during a game. We used to think it was because she knew no one would see her. She likes the noise."

"She?"

"We used to guess. Actually, we used to name her. Sometimes, you can see her shadow in the common room. The names don't stick, but we decided she was a girl, and that did," Blaise laughed.

"You Slytherins…so weird."

"Oi."

"Sorry. Kidding."

Harry leaned back against the stands, watching the giant squid on the surface of the lake.

"It's amazing. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's also freaking terrifying, and I'm glad 'she' doesn't spend much time in plain sight. But still. Hey, you okay? You seemed off this morning."

Blaise went and leaned against the post beside Harry. He immediately questioned the brilliance of his proximity. He could smell Potter now, and not in a post-quidditch, oh-god-I-can-smell-you-from-here sort of way. Potter smelt like Quidditch, sure, but he also smelt like sunny days and pine trees, and a little bit like warm laundry. It was disconcerting. And annoyingly intoxicating. He tried to focus on the question once more before he replied with something stupid like 'you smell good'.

"I was, a bit. It's weird, the being back. I walked around, saw some stuff. I'm better now."

"Good," Harry said, clearly willing to not dwell, but ready to move on. The benefit of not talking to a Slytherin- no over analyzing. Harry smiled cheekily, nudging him in the side. "Now that means I can ask you why you were down here during a game? That is distinctly against the rules.

Blaise laughed, "Unfortunately not what, but who. One of many regrets, I assure you."

Harry coloured brilliantly, obviously having not anticipated direct admission to sexual conduct in this casual conversation. Hilariously, not anticipating sex as a topic was the downside of not talking to a Slytherin.

Blaise had originally had a plan, for the day. The plan involved being innocent, waiting for Harry to make the move, to shift their friendship away from friendship. He knew that Harry was a bit terrified at the moment. He knew that Harry was scared of physical contact, in unchartered territory, and uncomfortable despite his bravado. Unfortunately, the plan had not accounted for Quidditch robes, or gentle blushes from childish innuendo. It hadn't accounted for unkempt hair, or happy wonder at seeing something new in a place they had both loved. Blaise hadn't prepared for that, and he felt his breath grow shallow.

Harry's arm was still warm against his side, and he forgot his careful planning, his promises to himself, as he reached down and took Harry's hand. He stood upright and turned himself around until he was face to face with Harry, only a few inches away.

"I've been meaning to tell you, you look fucking fit today. Those robes…you should probably wear britches every day."

Harry flushed further, and breathed a shallow breath before whispering, "Don't think that's very practical."

"Stop me anytime, Potter."

Blaise leaned in, and gently but gently, he kissed Harry Potter. He held his hand tightly, trying to ground them both, wrapping the other arm around Harry's waist and drawing him even closer. He felt Harry sigh, and nearly sagged with relief when the kiss was returned with force, more deeply, urgently, with hands suddenly in Blaise's hair, pulling his head down to meet his own. He felt like it was possible he had moaned embarrassingly when Harry's tongue darted out and ran across his lips. Or that he had clung desperately when he'd opened his own mouth to allow it. It had been an awfully long time since he had kissed anyone he'd actually _wanted_ , someone he actually liked. It was different, and he'd forgotten. They went on like this forever. For years. When Harry finally pulled back, gasping a bit at getting full ability to breathe back.

"Sorry," he said. "It's…it's been a while."

Blaise smiled, resting his forehead on Harry's, hands resting on either side of his head against the stands. "I was literally just thinking that. I...I should tell you. You realize that your quidditch robes have sort of been doing it for me since sixth year? I told Draco once. Biggest mistake of my life. He'd be livid to know that he didn't have that particular piece of blackmail to hold over me."

"Sixth year?" Harry whispered, clearly sorting the puzzle pieces into place. "In school?"

"Yes, although, to be fair, I just thought you were hot. I still sort of hated you. The effect is way better now that I know I don't," Blaise smiled.

Harry smiled too, and Blaise kissed him lightly once more, pushing off the wall behind him.

"Do you think we should actually, you know, go into Hogsmeade? I'm starving."

Harry laughed, but nodded.

"You'll need to let me shower first. Despite your odd _preferences_ -which I plan to one day use against you- I'm really uncomfortable."

"I suppose I can't stop you, can I?"

"You could at least try," Harry retorted, stepping forward and wrapping himself around Blaise once more.

"Cheeky."

"Very. You're quicker than you look, figuring that out this soon."

Blaise acquiesced to one more kiss before shoving back on Potter's shoulders.

"You, go shower. We need to go on an actual date, lest you accuse me of not knowing anything about you again."

"Oh fine. You're probably right."

He watched Harry walk away, and then wandered out from under the stands and down toward the lake. He wondered at the odd sense of deja vu of his life. Snogging under the stands and then sitting by the lake. He barely had time to appreciate the irony of how normal this was when a familiar voice spoke from above him.

"Well, it seems like nothing at all has changed. Here he is, Blaise Zabini, sitting by the lake on a sunny day looking thoroughly wanton and debauched. Time changes nothing, apparently."

"Daphne!" Blaise grinned, leaping up and shouting in joy. "Where the hell have you been all this time?"

"It's nice to see you too, Zabini," she grinned, hugging him. She hadn't changed an ounce, blonde hair the same length, looking every bit a Greengrass as she ever had. Blaise was weirdly happy to see her.

"Were you at the game?"

"Nah. I'm just here because Pansy was supposed to meet me, but I haven't been able to find her yet. So, who is he?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Blaise said slyly.

"Oh sure, Blaisey. You forget that I always used to cover for you during your little escapades. I know you're 'just shagged' look when I see it."

"Not a shag. Just a really good groping lark; and I'd tell you who, but then I'd have to have you killed."

"Well, naturally. I'd never expect a Zabini to do his own killing."

"Missed you, Greengrass."

"Ugh, don't get all sentimental on me. Everyone I've seen today has been grossly sentimental. It isn't like us, and it's starting to make me feel ill."

"Sorry," Blaise said, laughing.

They sat catching up for a few moments, until Blaise looked over his shoulder and saw a quickly approaching dark head.

"Daph, I have to go. I hope you find Pansy. Tell her I said hi, and let's catch up soon, hey?"

"We actually should, though. Pansy says there's something going on with you and Draco? I'm going to need details…that's not like you two. Your little spats used to only last a few minutes."

"Times change, Daph."

"Not that much. Go. You don't want me to get a hold of Potter. I'd warn him off you forever."

"What?"

"Be sneakier if you are trying to hide him, Zabini."

"Note taken," he said, laughing.

* * *

They had a pleasant afternoon. Blaise managed to only drag Potter into an ally to snog twice, and he actually did manage to learn quite a bit about the ridiculous man. He felt like everything he learned turned Potter into more of a contradiction. It was exciting, and he felt giddy when they finally decided to head back to England, separately- Blaise thought he hid his disappointment at this decision well.

"Before we leave," Blaise said, stopping Harry with a hand on his arm. "I have a question. Two questions."

"Shoot."

"Okay, one; do you still have this Wednesday off?"

"Yup. Inset."

"Okay. Meet me in Diagon alley at lunch time. But first, second question; am I supposed to be hiding you?"

"What?"

"Just...I didn't know if I was supposed to be pretending we aren't spending time together."

Harry seemed to be a bit taken aback. He thought for a moment.

"Do _you_ want to be hiding? We can, if it'd be easier for you. I don't want you to-"

"Oh lord, save me from Gryffindors. How did you turn this into a question of _my_ wellbeing. I don't want to hide you, but I understand perfectly if you want to hide me, and I would."

"I don't want to hide you," Harry said simply, with no thought, a smirk playing on his face. He clearly thought this conversation was stupid, and Blaise was exasperated.

"Good."

"Good. Wednesday, Diagon. Anywhere specific?"

"Meet me at the wall. I'm going to show you something."

"Are you always this mysterious?"

"Yup. Adds interest," Blaise said, this time deciding he was going to be the flirter, the winker.

The effect was slightly ruined by the enormous grin on his face, but he decided it didn't matter.


	5. Pie is as Good a Plan as Any

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story went all languid and rambling on me. I dunno. Blaise is confusing to write. I enjoyed it, but sorry if the slow burn is destroying your souls. Reviews in exchange for sudden action?

When he woke up on Sunday morning, having actually slept soundly in his own apartment, he jolted out of bed. He had renewed faith in his new life, in his current plans. That was the bizarre thing about being around Harry Potter; he made things seem possible, positive. To tell him anything made you feel like you could probably pull it off. It had likely been how he had managed to defeat Voldemort, come to think of it. He had decided he was going to, and as soon as he told others, they just did.

He spent the morning making a complicated berry pavlova with a raspberry reduction, making an utter mess of his kitchen in the process. He was normally very tidy, but his brain was in fifty different places, and the thought of washing up as he went felt disingenuous today. Leaving everything in the sink, he carefully covered his creation and flooed into Diagon Ally. It was only half eleven, but there was no way that he was waiting one more minute. He was a baker. He knew it to his core. He only needed a bakery.

"Mr. Zabini! It is very early for a Sunday."

"I know, Lady Brightley. My apologies. But I've brought pavlova. And I've come to tell you, you need to rent me this shop. I promise, you won't find anyone better. I don't understand your hesitation- I can pay three months advance, and I know that it's going to be successful. Please."

The old lady eyed him carefully for a moment. She walked a wide circle around him, poked at his ribs, stared him down, even sniffed him once. Finally, she stood back and beamed.

"Ah! Yes. There you are, young man. That is what I was waiting for. What's changed?"

"Sorry?"

"Purpose, dear boy. You reek of purpose. Before, all I saw was laziness, whim. You wanted because you wanted. But today, you've changed. Utterly different aura about you today. What is the difference?"

"I don't know what you mean. Nothing has changed."

"Fine, fine," she said, a wry smile painted annoyingly on her face. "Keep your secrets. But whatever you say, there is Something new behind your eyes. You have purpose and promise. So what is it you wanted again? A bakery? Fine, I suppose I've made you wait long enough. The shop is yours."

She shuffled him inside her landing, and brought him a set of keys. She clapped him on the shoulder, and ushered him out again. Blaise didn't fully process anything for hours. He wandered around inside the store front, dusty and worn out, with papered up windows and old workbenches and tables scattered around. He held the keys that now belonged only to him, thumbed light switches, and breathed in the air of a dream he had never actually planned to realize. He felt bereft and ecstatic and angry and hopeful all at once, and finally, he could think of nothing else but to get started right away. He scrubbed and cleaned, threw away trash, and finally, sat in the middle of the floor in a sparkling clean space and laughed himself silly.

Brightley didn't need to know the truth. That his new found purpose was insane, built overnight in a very crazy way. That he felt suddenly like he wanted all the things he had eschewed for the better part of his life; he wanted family, and society, parties and whimsy. Dreams, and a house with a fence. He wanted stability and drive. He wanted to feel like he had done something that was simply, and unapologetically, good. And he knew why this change had occurred so suddenly, but he was hardly going to voice it to anyone, let alone a batty old landlady.

"I suppose at some point, though," he told the empty room. "I should tell my mother that I have dropped out of school."

 

For the next three days, he continued all the stupid tasks he had been running around doing the week before; securing permits, buying equipment, taking out a loan at Gringotts, trying to hire a shop assistant. He felt like you weren't supposed to do all these things at once, but he had always worked best under momentum and he figured he would just do it his own way and hope for the best. It had always served him just fine in the past, blundering about foolishly until he had succeeded.

The time spent on his own, though, this blundering, it was doing him no good in the other parts of his life. Although truthfully, he didn't know it. He had built a whole relationship in his head with Harry, regardless of the fact that he didn't have any evidence to back it up. He imagined a slow burn, a delicious build up to Harry realizing he loved him too, the type of tantalizing love affair that he had never really been partial to, and which he suddenly desperately wanted. He was informing this with small things he believed to be true about Harry;

Harry has never been with a man before. Harry needs to take things slow, I need to be patient with him. Harry isn't sure about me. Harry is loyal, so it takes him a while to warm up to people.

He wandered around in pure bliss, oblivious to the world for the next three days. Wednesday dawned bright and sunny, and he prepared himself by envisioning his full Victorian drama.

Of course, just like in every Victorian drama ever made, what Blaise had failed to remember was that relationships required at least two people. And real people have expectations of their own. And personalities. And plans.

When Harry arrived at the wall at noon to meet him, his face was dark and stormy the second he stopped spinning from Apparition. He smiled when he saw Blaise, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and he sighed and scrubbed his hair as he wandered over.

"Alright?" Blaise said, "You look as though you might hurt someone."

"Yeah, sorry, Z. Just a bit…exhausted, actually. It's been a long week."

"It's only Wednesday."

"Yeah, don't remind me. Stupid Auror training. Look, let's not talk about it. I want to make the most of this pointless day off. Distract me?"

"Pointless? I resent that. Distract you I shall. You hungry?"

"I thought you were going to show me something."

"All in due time, handsome man. All in due time. Follow me."

They had lunch in the square, grabbing coffee from the cart that stood in the street. Diagon Alley bustled as much as ever, and Blaise kept a decorous distance between he and Harry. Despite their last conversation, he felt like he wasn't ready to open up this stuff to the ridicule of the whole of Wizarding London quite yet. They laughed and joked, and Harry's smile slowly came back, the lightness and the flirty silliness that Blaise loved in him returning full force.

Blaise smiled as Harry laughed at some stupid comment he'd made, taking a sip of his coffee and trying to convince himself not to comment. He failed.

"Feeling better?" Blaise said, toeing Harry's foot with his shoe.

"Yes. Sorry."

"Why would you apologize? It was actually starting to freak me out that you were happy all the time. Well…Happy or bored."

"You know, when I started this whole thing, I think I knew it was going to be hard, but Auror training really sucks. It's so much work for no reward. And on Monday night, they sent us home, only to call us in at midnight to practice on call shifts. Who needs to practice being up all night!"

Blaise just laughed. And then Harry hit him. Which of course meant that Blaise had no choice but to catch his hand and kiss him. There was no alternative, really. When Harry withdrew his mouth, his hand remained on Blaise's neck, rubbing small circles and looking pleasantly flushed and smiling. But Blaise pulled back and looked around them self-consciously. A small frown played at Harry's mouth and he dropped his hands. Blaise tried to ignore it.

"Thanks. For distracting me," Harry said, trying to lighten the sudden tension that had appeared.

"You still want to be doing it, though, right? Be an Auror?"

"Yup! As long as the next 18 months doesn't kill me, that is. Now," Harry said, standing up and finishing his last sip of coffee. "I believe you said you were going to show me something?"

"Er, yes. But. Okay, so, it seemed like a way more exciting reality on Sunday, but I've come to the realization that after the squid, it's going to be pretty boring, so check your expectations."

"What expectation? I'm on a date with Blaise Zabini. I have zero expectations," he teased, stepping forward and kissing Blaise lightly before striding forward, waiting to be led.

"Date?" Blaise said, catching up.

"Is it not?"

"No, I guess that's the right word. This way."

Harry hesitated slightly before following behind Blaise, catching his hand lightly and following right beside him. Blaise tried to just breathe; wasn't this what he wanted after all? Why was he being so ridiculous? He let Harry hold his hand, chatted inanely on the three minute walk, and tried his best to remain calm. He stopped outside the building- his building- and took a deep breath.

"Okay, so…this is it."

"This is what?" Harry said, looking up at the old carpenter's sign that still hung outside the papered windows. "Wait! This is it. She finally let you take it? Oh my god, Z! Go on then! Open the door!"

Harry's genuine excitement bolstered him again and he quickly opened the door with a tiny flourish.

"Welcome to Casa di Blaise," he said, grinning sheepishly. "It still needs a tonne of work but-"

Harry walked past him, pulling Blaise behind him by the hand.

"Z, it's perfect! Good bones. But, please tell me you are going to give it a better name."

"Of course. I'll make you help. But thanks."

Harry wandered in, signature look of austere disbelief on his face, lighting the lamps with a careless flick of his wand. He walked the perimeter of the space, inspecting every surface. Blaise settled himself onto one of the old work tables and watched him calmly, taking in the muggle jeans and soft grey sweater appreciatively. He was watching Harry closely, waiting for the shift from hesitation to approval that he knew would come.

"We should take out this wall."

"Yeah, I was thinking that too."

"Counter on this wall?"

"Maybe, or over there?"

"Hm. Maybe. Is there already a toilet?"

"Nope, have to build one."

"These floors-"

"I know. They are brilliant, hey?"

"Honestly," Harry said, the grin Blaise had been waiting for finally spreading itself across his face. "Blaise, this place really is perfect. You weren't lying. I can already see it as a bakery."

"Thanks, Harry. It's nice to know I wasn't exaggerating in my mind."

Harry settled down on the table beside him, legs crossed and facing Blaise. They sat in silence for a moment, and then Harry reached forward and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging Blaise's head toward his own, a manic grin plastered on his face. The kiss that followed was intense and mind-numbing; for a few moments, Blaise could only deal with the actions directly expected of him. He shifted his weight forward and grabbed Harry by the hair. He opened his mouth to an insistent, swirling, and suddenly very talented tongue. He took gasps of breath when Harry broke away momentarily to change the angle he was sitting at. Blaise's brain didn't resurface for a moment when Harry's free hand snaked down and into the back his obviously-too-loose trousers, cupped his arse cheek. Finally, with the cold and the awkward, his brain turned back on and he pulled away. Harry looked baffled for a split second and then sighed in an exasperated tone and pushed himself upright.

"Alright, Z, that's enough. I have a question for you. What is it exactly that you want from me? Because, honestly, I thought I knew, but you keep pulling away just when things get interesting, and my ego can't take much more of it. Have I…have I done something wrong?"

"I'm just...I'm trying to take things slow."

"Is that what you want, or is it what you believe I want?"

"I, erm-"

"Let me ask you, Blaise. Have I given you any indication, whatsoever, that I wanted to take things slowly? I have been bloody overt since that day in the corridor. I've even tried to keep my letters intriguing, for Merlin's sake. If you want slow, you can tell me, I can…find a way to respect that."

"I just thought that you-"

"What? Was too stupid to figure out a relationship?"

"I was just trying not to scare you away. I know it can be weird for some people, changing genders, and-"

"Blaise. You aren't the first man I've been with."

"Wha-what?"

"Yes. Well. And would have bloody-well known that had you bothered to ask. Listen, while we are on the subject, let's make one thing perfectly clear. I am absolutely and completely done with people doing things for me behind my back because they believe they know what is best for me. I know what is best for me. Trust me. It has never served anyone before. And as it happens, what is best for me right now, is to be snogging you. With some regularity. And frankly, far more than snogging would be awesome. I am so stressed right now. Merlin. I don't need slow and 'will they won't they' bullshit. The reason I started to like you was your action, your decisions to just be honest and go. If you can't be that for me, then I don't know that I want…whatever is in its place. I'm sorry. That was harsh, but I think it's true."

"You don't need me to slow down?"

"No, Blaise, I need you to speed the fuck up. We are already friends. We can work out the minor details later. Right now? We are 21, and free to make dumb choices. My current dumb choice is to jump in with both feet with you, and let the chips fall. Can you handle that?"

Blaise lost his words again. It was weird that Potter, who was not known for his verbal prowess, kept stumping Blaise, who was. He felt like speechlessness might be catching. Still, Gryffindor boyfriends were good for one thing; appreciation of action over words. He felt a floodgate open in his mind. Victorian romance was highly overrated. He had always felt that burning gazes and hushed meetings were stupid; they weren't him. He was born of Lothario, and he had never been ashamed. He wasn't going to start now.

Instead of trying to respond, he moved forward and firmly pushed Potter's chest with one hand, until he was lying down across the table, with Blaise crawling determinedly between his legs.

"Finally, Z. You've got me where you want me. Now what are you going to do about it," Harry's wicked grin sent a jolt straight to Blaise's cock, and he was entirely comfortable with what he was going to do next.

* * *

 

Later, as they lay mostly naked on the freezing cold work table, probably contracting ancient splinters in very inconvenient places, Harry's hand tracing a soft trail up and down his abdomen, Blaise started to laugh.

"You were kind of mean, you know. Earlier."

"Oh? It was only meant to be forceful. Hermione said it sounded forceful."

"You practiced the speech, that you hoped would get me to fuck you, with Hermione?"

"Yes, Z. We have no secrets."

"B."

"What?"

"I think you'll find my name begins with a B. This whole 'Zee' thing has been all adorable and American and everything, but I prefer the men whose bare arses I've seen not to refer to me by family name. It's creepy. Makes me think of my mother."

Harry shuddered.

"Yes. Exactly."

"So...B. I kind of like it. I could try harder. Come up with an actual nickname?"

"No, don't. I've always been B. However, I'm not going to start calling you H. That sounds weird. I'll come up with something else."

"Good. For the record, this was way better than the squid."

"Well, that's good. Although, I feel like you lured me here under false pretense. You had definitely never done _that_  before."

Blaise smirked down at Harry, who was now blushing furiously. Harry may not have been a virgin, but it had been clear as soon as they started that whoever had had the initial honour of deflowering the Saviour had not been of the male persuasion.

"I...what do you want to know?"

"I assume it was Ginny. But who was the _guy_ before me?"

"Oh. Yeah, fair question."

"And?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. But we didn't…I mean, we mostly just fooled around a lot. We were both pretty young."

"Never stopped me," Blaise said sheepishly, not sure how the topic of Blaise's indiscretion was ever going to come up otherwise.

"Yes. Well. There were rumours. But I don't really care."

"You don't?"

"Nope. I mean, I'm sort of embarrassingly a relationship kind of guy, so-"

"Harry, me too. There'll be no one else, not while we're together."

"Are we then? Together I mean? Properly?"

"Properly. You'd better believe you're finely tuned arse we are. I'm considering taking out a full page ad in the Prophet, save me having to tell my mother."

"I.…I think we can avoid that," Harry muttered, paling significantly.

Blaise laughed, delighted that he had found the edge of the Potter bravado. He nuzzled into Harry's hair and kissed his head, "Well, if you insist. But, that means I may have to force you to endure an 'old family' Pureblood dinner with her. I haven't told her I've dropped out, and you may soften the blow."

Harry curled into Blaise comfortably, tightening his grip around his waist and sighing contentedly.

"Fine," he muttered, "But not today. Right now, I have the rest of the afternoon off, and I have a feeling that as much as you hate your apartment, it has a bed that is more comfortable than this table."

"Perhaps. But you'll have to put some clothes on to get there. There's no floo in here yet."

"You don't think Diagon is ready for naked Apparition?"

* * *

 

Half an hour later, with Harry safely installed in his bed, sleeping soundly in exhausted, Auror-in-training afternoon napping, Blaise silently baked four different pies, grinning stupidly the whole time. It had been a long time since he'd had sex, and he could ride the high as much as he wanted. He may have felt stupid had Draco seen him, but he shook his head and forced himself to stop gauging his emotions based on his former best-friend's reactions.

When Harry resurfaced, wandering into the kitchen in Blaise's pjs, he wrapped himself around Blaise who was still washing up at the sink.

"You are not allowed to bake every day until that shop is open. We will both be a hundred stone."

"Physically impossible. Plus, I don't eat desserts."

Harry laughed, "What? A baker who doesn't eat dessert? That can't be right."

"Don't have a sweet tooth. Feeling better?" he replied, turning in Harry's arms and fitting their bodies together comfortably. 

"Merlin, yes. Don't know why you don't like it here. That bed was wonderful."

"That bed is just better than Luna's day bed and you were exhausted. You should…"

"What?"

"Well, I mean, it's super ridiculous to suggest this on the first day of us actually sleeping together, but, fuck it. We are weird regardless, right? I was going to say, if you want, you can start sleeping here. Truthfully, although it makes me sound so childish, I hate it here because it's too quiet."

"Quiet?"

"Well, we went from living in dorms, to this. You still live with your friends, but I'm here by myself. I used to stay at…"

"Draco's. You were still doing that when I first met you, remember?"

"Yes, well. Regardless. The offer stands."

"May just take you up on that sometimes."

Blaise paused, looking into Harry's face, studying him carefully.

"You okay?"

"Yes? Do I not look it?"

"No idea. Just thought I'd check."

"Blaise, relax. I am okay. You are okay. Everything, merlin help us all, is going to be okay. We are not going to rattle the whole of wizarding England by sleeping together."

"Maybe not, but I bet they take issue with me being in love with you."

"Still on about that, are we?"

"Until you believe me, yes. Yes we are."

"Fine. Convince me," Harry winked and stole an entire pie off the counter as he walked to the sofa. "But first, I am going to eat pie."

"It's as good a plan as any."

"It's my new life philosophy."


	6. When You Choose Hope, Even Slytherins Can Surprise You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you think it's time we hear from Harry? Yeah, me too. Only for a moment, mind. This is still Zabini's show.

They had only been out of school for three years, and in that time, Blaise had really only dated a few people. They had all been terrible, ridiculous people, and he hadn't really tried very hard to find the 'right' person. In fact, until Harry had appeared, he'd had no real desire to be _with_ anyone at all. Which meant he wasn't exactly ready for the alarming _rightness_ of his newfound relationship with Harry.

It was of course only a testament to the fact that Harry didn't sleep well that he actually did start showing up at Blaise's apartment about three nights a week. He certainly wasn't complaining; he slept better with Harry in his flat, making the small noises everyone does in their sleep, being there when Blaise woke up in the middle of the night, a comforting and non-aggressive lump of comfort. He'd never really let anyone be a lump of comfort. He liked it.

Harry was also surprisingly clingy when awake, and Blaise didn't really expect how much he loved that too. Harry wasn't only a sleep cuddler, a space stealer, and a couch encroacher- he was a hugger. Whenever he saw Blaise, he somehow managed a hello kiss that involved every limb being against every limb, chest to chest, and a puddle of goo behind. And it was a little inconvenient because it left Blaise breathless and flustered every time. Once upon a time, he might have found this embarrassing; the hugging, the snogging, the very obvious greetings. But he honestly didn't, not now. He wanted to parade Harry around like a prize he had won, and if that possessiveness appeared as clinginess in Harry, he could deal.

"Hello, my barnacle," he would say, through Harry's hair and making him laugh.

Which is all to say, things were good. Things progressed. The Gryffindor's just moved on, just as they had when he had suddenly become Harry's friend. In fact, most of the time, Harry was just the butt of gentle ribbing by his friends, and Blaise was quickly placed in the role of moderator for all pub debates. Except with Ginny. Ginny was definitely annoyed. He figured it was likely just the regular annoyed of an ex over a new partner, because even though Harry was indifferent to his past with the fiery red-head, she was definitely of a different temper. Still, things were fine.

His friends, except of course for Draco, were simply very Slytherin about the whole thing. His favourite moment had been the evening, about two months in, where Harry had arrived at his apartment after school to find a slightly tipsy Daphne and Pansy at his kitchen counter, eating tarts. He had frozen comically in the entryway, clearly wanting to retreat. Instead, he squared his shoulders, and Blaise laughed, hearing the internal _GRYFFINDOR_ in Harry's stride.

"Hey, B," he said, giving him a chaste kiss and trying to back away, before Blaise pulled him close again, kissed him properly, and held him tight, much to the delight and wolf whistles of the girls.

"Hey. Good day? You remember Daph and Pansy?"

"Don't know that we've ever properly met," Harry said, escaping his grasp and shaking each of the girls' hands in turn.

"I think that perhaps we've heard enough about _you_ that we have," Daphne said, full sneer placed on her face. Of course, Blaise knew it wasn't a real one. Harry instinctively looked to him, already slightly annoyed by the looks of things, and Blaise just grinned back. Harry's shoulders fell back down to normal height, and he smiled at Daphne.

"I think perhaps the things you've heard about me are as accurate as the things I've heard about you. So. It's nice to meet you," Harry said, sticking his hand in Daphne's face again. She grinned, and shook it wildly.

"Okay. I like him," she said to Blaise.

"Yeah, but you're easy," Pansy put in. "The real test will be how he reacts when we watch as Blaise fucks him in the kitchen."

Harry coloured, but did not reply. He looked at Blaise, and muttered something about going to change before leaving the kitchen.

"Hey, Parkinson. Be. Nice. He's not used to ass holes and miscreants."

"What? Well, that can't be true. He grew up in the Gryffindor common room."

"Pans."

"Blaise, we _have_ to test him," Daphne said, exasperated. "How else will we determine if this is allowed to continue? You're more in love with him than you ever were with Draco."

"Hey! I was _never_ in love with Draco. I had a silly crush in second year that I never should have told you about. Twelve year olds cannot be faulted for what they crush on."

"Well-"

Only Daphne didn't finish her sentence, because at that moment, Harry reappeared. He was wearing Quidditch robes. And white socks. And very white, very tight, briefs. And nothing else. Blaise gaped at him in confusion, which had the disastrous effect of drawing the attention of the girls. They turned around and then swivelled between the two of them in question.

"Well," Harry sighed dramatically. "Let's get this over with B."

"Harry?"

"Didn't you hear Pansy? We have to…er, you know. In the kitchen."

Pansy looked at Blaise's face one more time, and then leapt up unsteadily, laughing hysterically. She reached forward and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"Yup. You can definitely stay. Take care of him, Blaise. He's _way_ smarter than you."

" _Way_ smarter," agreed Daphne, following Pansy and hugging Harry.

When Blaise came back from seeing the girls out, he was still half naked, finishing tarts.

"You," Blaise said, pulling him up by the hand and toward the bedroom. "Should definitely have been in Slytherin. Diabolical."

* * *

 

And so.

They were bizarrely together. _Together_ together. Two weeks quickly turned into two months. Two months turned into four months, and five months later, the work on the bakery was finished. A lot, of course, had happened in that time.

Harry had convinced him to go on a trip to Spain over Christmas. He had told his mother about school (though not about Harry. He just wasn't ready for that.). Ron and Hermione found a flat, and they had started preparing Grimmauld place to sell, which put Harry in an excellent mood, and turned him into an all but permanent Zabini apartment dweller.

On the reverse, however, life was not without curve balls. He still wasn't speaking to Draco, although he knew from Harry that he and Katie had been officially together for a few months themselves. And then, Pansy broke up with Theodore, and ended up on their couch for a month. Right before Christmas, Ginny had had an accident while flying, and had been given the news that it likely wasn't safe for her to fly with the team again in the near future; that had not gone well. No one had seen her for almost a month, and when she had started coming out again, she was angry and terse, and Neville was almost as miserable.

However, the best five month milestone was definitely the bakery being done. And opening in a week. Blaise sat on the old worktable, which now served as the corner booth table of the small café seating area, drinking Prosecco, and trying to feel happy.

"Why do I not believe you when you say you are excited?" Harry said sitting underneath him on the bench, putting his chin on Blaise's knee.

"I am. I'm just…I don't know. It doesn't feel real. This was always just…common room talk. I-"

"Blaise. It's real. I'm looking at it. Not only is it real, _it's awesome._ You've been working your ass off. And the desserts are delicious. It's going to be a smash hit. Especially as we head into the depths of winter. People need that kind of cheery."

"I should have finished it for the holidays."

"But you didn't, and it still doesn't matter. Blaise, what is it really?"

"You know I love you."

"You are adamant about that, yes. I promise one day, I will say it back."

"Not the point I was making. I love you, but…you aren't…"

Harry sighed as he realised what Blaise was on about.

"Draco. You thought Draco would be here."

"I know it's stupid, but sorta."

"It's not stupid. I'm sorry. It's entirely my fault."

Blaise leapt off the table and stood in front of Harry.

"No, Hare. It is not. It is entirely _Draco's_ fault. He's chosen to be small minded, and for whatever reason, he can't get over the past right now. He might, one day. You may even be friends at some point. But for now, _our_ lives are what matters. He's happy in his own way, and I am going to choose, right now, to be in happy in mine. Come on. Let's go home."

"I said that yesterday to Luna and she laughed at me. I didn't realise until today, why it was funny. B, do I…am I living with you?"

"I think you might be. I kind of want you to be."

"Isn't it rather fast?"

Blaise shrugged, "Based on whose timeline? It doesn't feel fast to me. You?"

Harry smiled, "Nope."

"So who cares. Come on, let's go _home._ "

* * *

As happy as Harry was at the changes in definition, at the relationship in general, the look on Blaise's face that day stuck with him. Bothered him. Until finally, he sent a message to Pansy out of the blue. Which is how he had ended up here, waiting outside in the freezing cold at half three, half an hour longer than he should have been waiting. Finally, Pansy's Intel paid off, and a tall, imposing figure clad entirely in grey, down to a fuzzy scarf and deerstalker, rounded the corner of Diagon ally.

"Malfoy!" he called out.

Malfoy spun on his heel in a practised stance of defence, lifting his collar automatically to shield his face. Harry felt a tiny stab of empathy that immediately replaced itself with anger. He would not feel bad for Draco Malfoy. That wasn't his goal here.

"Malfoy," he said again.

"Potter," the other man spat, having seen him fully. "What can you possibly want?"

The tone bristled Harry's spine, and he took a breath. Had the git said, 'my father will hear about this', they could have been back in fifth year, and he hadn't any more patience now than he had then.

"I need to talk to you. Just for a minute. About Blaise."

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded curtly, "Inside, though. We'll cast Muffliato. It's way too cold out here."

Harry nodded too and followed the blond inside. Once they were seated, having ordered tea with a slightly concerned looking waitress, Harry felt the telltale fuzziness of a spell takeover their space.

"Alright. What. Make it quick. I don't have all afternoon."

"Blaise's bakery opens at the weekend."

"Katie mentioned."

"You need to be there."

"Did he send you?"

"You know he didn't."

"I do," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "He's more stubborn than I am."

"So come."

"Potter, did Blaise tell you why we fought?"

"Yes. Because he wanted to be friends with me. You can't handle anyone else being friends with your friend?"  
 _  
_"No, you moron. I can't handle my best friend sleeping with _you_."

Harry took a deep breath so he didn't shout before muttering, "Why, Malfoy? Surely we can move on."

"It's not because I don't like you. I haven't _liked_ quite a few of Blaise's playthings. It's because it's _you_. You'll sleep with him for now, out of fascination or attraction or whatever you want to call it. But soon, you'll grow tired. You'll have a hard time with his Pure Blood tendencies, or his mother will offend you, or you'll decide you are better, and you'll leave him shattered. He goes all in. It's his worst character trait. Whether you want to believe it or not, I know Blaise is making a huge mistake playing around with-"

"I love him."

Malfoy glared at him sharply for a moment. Then sighed.

"Oh, no you don't. You don't even know him. Not what he's really like. He's difficult, you know. Fickle. He'll get pissed off over every tiny thing. You'll tire of him, one day. I bet you he keeps telling you he loves you right? Yeah. That's his thing."

"Enough. It doesn't matter what you think of us. That's not what I'm asking of you. All I want you to do is be his acquaintance again. He needs your…I don't know…approval or something. I don't understand it, but that doesn't make it less important, from what I can tell. It doesn't have to be the same as it was before. You have Katie. You don't need each other that same way. But don't throw him away, Malfoy. That's dumb, even for you."

Malfoy sat open mouthed for a second, then stared down at the tea that had just arrived not saying anything. Harry sat, arms crossed and fuming, but unwilling to leave first. If Malfoy was going to just brush him off, he'd have to stand up and go first. Finally, Malfoy cleared his throat, and Harry braced himself for an exodus.

"We're eloping."

"W-what?"

"Katie and I are eloping at the end of the month. I've been trying to figure out how to have Blaise be there. I need a witness, according to my mother, who isn't related to me or K. There…there's no one else."

"Well, okay. I mean, I disagree with you. You have Pansy and Daphne, or even Theodore, but I understand what you mean. So come to his opening."

"You really don't get it. That won't be enough."

"What if it is?"

Malfoy's eyes sharply adjusted to Potter's face, and to the world, it would have looked just like the beginning of a duel. Malfoy broke the gaze first.

"Fine. But, you have to warn him."

"Oh, I'm going to. I have a feeling that a duel the first day the bakery is open isn't what Blaise had in mind."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Malfoy did stand this time, and Harry felt himself breathe out in relief. He was hating this whole experience.

"Potter. Thanks. That can't have been easy."

"It's just for him."

"I know. Thank you anyway."


	7. Just Walk This Path With Head Held High

 

Harry did warn Blaise, which led to their first actual fight. Apparently, Harry going to see Draco behind his back was enough to piss Blaise off. He only just managed to convince himself not to ward the door to the apartment against Harry. Still, as the week progressed, and he got more and more concerned about the opening, he needed Harry. He might not have been over it, but he was willing to believe that Harry didn't really care either way. He'd done what he'd done for a reason, and Blaise had to admit, if there was a chance of reconciliation with D, he would probably end up thanking Harry.

The night before the opening, he couldn't seem to fall asleep. It's not that things weren't ready, or that he was actually worried about things going well. It actually didn't matter how many sales they did or how many people showed up. He was only worried about being Zabini; he was worried about hostility, about the detractors. The Prophet. And so he was sitting in bed, hands behind his head, distracted.

"You know," Harry said. "This feels sort of pointless at the moment."

Blaise felt his cheeks flush as Harry rose back up from attentions that he was honestly too distracted to appreciate.

"Sorry, darling," he said, pulling Harry across his chest and stroking his hair.

"I think I have seen it all. Blaise Xantalius Zabini, too worried to be distracted by sex. What will become of the world. B, you honestly _know_ it's going to be fine, right?"

"Yes," Blaise lied, his hands betraying him as they continued to worry Harry's hair.

"I'll pretend I believe you. Please don't hate me when I fall asleep momentarily. I'm exhausted. Don't read into it."

"Of course not. Don't worry; sleep. Think about it this way. You only have three more months until the end of first year!"

"Ughhh," Harry groaned. "Three months. First year. I hate my life."

Blaise laughed, "No, you don't. Sleep."

"Hey Blaise?"

"Hm?" Blaise said absently, still not really paying attention, at least until Harry's face was suddenly right in front of his, having hoisted himself up on his arms, clearly trying to get his attention.

"I meant to tell you one more thing, but you got angry, so I didn't…"

"Um, okay?"

"I told Draco I love you."

Blaise looked down at Harry, and laughed.

"Yeah, I know. Ridiculous. But he was trying to tell me I didn't know you, and he sounded so much like me when I say it to you, and it just came out because that git drives me mental. But the point is, I've thought about it, and I've decided it's true."

"What's true? That you don't know me?"

"No, idiot. That...well, I guess…"

"Harry, it isn't going to kill you."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Now go to sleep you crazy person."

Harry collapsed back onto Blaise's chest and fell asleep in minutes. Blaise was awake for a lot longer, but even he eventually fell asleep. He had no control over the next day's events; he needed to let that go. He was ready, and even if everything went to shit, he would be fine. The love wrapped around him right now was more than he had ever expected, and he really would be fine no matter what else happened.

When the Prophet reporter showed up the next afternoon, Harry was there to take her arm and distract her by giving her an overly detailed tour. He sent her out smiling a half hour later with a complimentary box of assorted tarts, and without a quote from Blaise.

Katie showed up shortly after during a quiet moment in the otherwise ridiculously busy day.

"Mr. Zabini, this place is wonderful! You can smell it for a block, and it's just as delicious inside. Love the old work tables."

"Thanks, Bell. Honestly, it's just Blaise. Especially since…well, I hear congratulations are in order."

Katie blushed furiously.

"He's outside. Being a child."

"I'd agree with you, except that I know if roles were reversed-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Will you go talk to him? Just for a moment. I know you are very busy. And it's Katie, if I'm to call you Blaise."

He nodded, and followed her out the door of the shop and found Draco in his normal winter attire, thin frame huddled into a soft wool coat, although whether it was because he was cold or because he was hiding his face was unclear. For a solid minute, he just stood beside Draco, looking up at the hand painted sign proclaiming the grand opening of _Sweet Street._

"It's real," Draco said quietly.

"It is."

"You know, you first mentioned this in second year. It seems like a lifetime ago."

"I keep saying."

"The name is rather sickening."

Blaise grinned, "I knew you'd think so. It tested well."

"I suppose it'll have to do."

"You finally told her, I see."

Draco laughed shortly, "Actually, she told me. And then Mother got involved- no, it's fine. She was right. And so were you, incidentely. Harry came to see me."

"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't know he was going to."

"I know that, idiot. If I thought you had sent him, I would have hexed him."

"You would've, too…git."

"Chump."

"Arse."

Draco grinned out from his jacket.

"So, will you come be my witness for this thing?"

"Yes."

"Just yes."

"Just. Yes."

"Alright."

"Alright."

Harry and Katie were standing by the door listening, almost as though Blaise and Draco needed guarding- which, he had to admit, was a vague possibility. Now that they were here, witnessing the conversation that unfolded, they looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Do you understand what happened just now?" Katie said loudly.

"Not a clue," Harry replied.

"Gryffindors," said Blaise and Draco at once.

"Blaise," Draco interrupted, suddenly serious. "It doesn't mean-"

"Yeah, I know. But you were almost right before. I don't think we were meant to stay the same as before. Maybe this is just new? We can do new."

"Yeah, okay. You need to bring him to meet the horror."

"I am well aware of that, thank you."

Draco grinned, slapped him on the back, and wandered off with Katie, muttering 'good job' under his breath.

Later, when the shop was finally closed, and Blaise got home after spending an extra hour cleaning up with his horrible shop assistant (who, incidentally, was not going to last), he collapsed on the couch. Dropping his head into Harry's lap, and disturbing his peaceful browsing of a Quidditch magazine, he sighed heavily.

"Big day, hey?" Harry said, putting the pages on top of Blaise's shoulders in defeat.

"Yup."

"And now you have a wedding to go to."

"Yup."

"And a friend back?"

"Sort of."

"Who's 'the horror'?"

Blaise turned sharply to look at Harry, who looked a tiny bit afraid, a facial expression Blaise wasn't sure he had seen yet.

"My mother."

"Ah."

"Yup," Blaise muttered, closing his eyes and falling almost instantly asleep, two days of worry finally falling off his shoulders. Harry, to his credit, let him sleep there a solid hour before forcing him to bed.

* * *

When he woke up the following day, he immediately owled his mother, much to both Galileo and Harry's dismay.

"What, TODAY?!"

"Yes, today. It is Sunday, which means she will have had roast lunch made, and the food will be worth the suffering. But also, the less notice she has, the less time she has to prepare torture. Trust me on this one."

"What did you write?"

"I said, _Mother, bringing my boyfriend round for lunch. See you at 2._ It isn't rocket science."

"So...she doesn't know who I am yet?"

"Nope."

"Merlin. I need a drink," Harry whined, scrubbing his hair.

"Not now, you don't. We need to go buy you new robes."

"Merlin. How did you just make it worse? You're actually worried about this. You are Blaise. With the exception of yesterday, you don't get worried. She is going to eat me alive."

Blaise looked him up and down, "Almost certainly. Let's go."

Three hours later, kitted out in stupidly fancy, very expensive, deep-green robes from Twillfit's, Blaise Side-alonged Harry to the front steps of Zabini Gardens. They both looking slightly mad and panicked, and Blaise took a deep breath, pulling Harry into him.

"Breathe, darling. It's going to be fine," Blaise told him, kissing him gently and squeezing him quickly. "Probably."

"Very helpful. Thanks."

Blaise shrugged and rang the doorbell. He wasn't at all surprised when the door swung open of it's own accord and invited them in, announcing that the current party was in the library.

"Party?"

"Just my mother, and whoever her _dujour_ man may be. Don't worry. It always says that."

"Stupid magic."

"That's not what you said when I used magic to-"

"Blaise, darling!" a voice cried from the end of the corridor, causing him to sigh deeply and step out ahead of Harry in automatic defense.

"Mother," he strode forward and clasped her extended hands, kissing each of her cheeks. "Mother, this is…er, Harry."

"Harry," she said, extending her hands, and making him glad he had warned Harry about how to greet his mum. "Charmed."

She did a double take as Harry kissed her hands.

"Wait…Harry, as in Harry _Potter_."

"The same, Mother. Be. Nice."

" _You_ are Blaise's boyfriend? A half-blood?"

" _MOTHER._ "

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. The last boy Blaise brought home was _French_ ," she said, laughing at her own joke. "No mind, come and meet Igor- he's simply _dying_ to meet you."

Blaise turned to Harry and rolled his eyes, making Harry smirk. Blaise was suffused with a momentary feeling of unrestrained affection. No one else had so quickly gotten over his mother's intimidating crassness. Harry was tough, and he always managed to forget that, at this point in his life, he was hardly going to be intimidated easily. He smiled, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. He just shook his head and followed his mother into the library.

Surprisingly, the rest of the afternoon went as smoothly as could be expected. His mother only made him cringe a dozen times or so, and despite the fact that this Igor bloke was definitely the standard sort of man his mother dated, he was rather innocuous. He was creepy, slightly offensive, and dismissive of everyone in the room, but that was it. Par for the course really. When they left just after coffee, Blaise let out a deep breath and turned immediately to Harry standing on the porch.

"So, I suppose that's it for us then? For what it's worth, it's been fun."

Harry laughed, "It wasn't so bad. I mean-"

"Yes, before you even ask, she _does_ always use the 'M' word that often. And she is a terrible snob; the name-dropping was actually at an all-time low today, surprisingly. I'm really sorry."

"I'm actually sort of impressed."

"What?" Blaise said, spinning back to Harry wildly. "With what?"

"I'm impressed that you turned out as well as you did, considering. By all accounts, you should be a death-eater, Muggle-hating, classist prick."

"Yes, well, daddy number three saw to it that I was at boarding school immediately upon turning five, so she didn't have much time to get her claws into me. The nuns at St. Ignatius were more influential, and they were quite kind. Those nuns..."

"Number three? So…the rumours are true? We used to sorta hear them at school."

"Well, the numbers are true. The nonsense about…the demises, and such, are not strictly true. I've never been able to find any evidence that she is _actually_ a black widow or something. She's just a bit of a bad judge of character. And health. This Igor is no exception."

"Yes, he was sort of terrible. Well, that's that then, isn't it. Well done, you."

Blaise laughed, and they dropped it. They went home to be perfectly boring and domestic. They never again discussed lunch with Blaise's mother, but he did feel a weight lift off him to know that she knew and vaguely approved, at least in behaviour, if not outright.

* * *

Their lives progressed. Blaise started catering events, hired Ginny (although she agreed rather reluctantly) to run the café during the day, and started making a name for _himself_ , unconnected to his family or name or blood status. With Harry on his arm, he started getting invitations to prestigious events in Wizarding London, and they quickly became a near-celebrity couple, much to their combined dismay. Still, they were young and in love, and they enjoyed the free booze and attention.

Draco and Katie's quiet wedding came and went. It had gone fine, although Blaise had wisely left Harry at home. Still, their friendship hadn't really recovered. Blaise couldn't quite get over the fact that Draco had given up on Healing, and Draco couldn't quite get over Harry. They couldn't hang out without arguing, so mostly they didn't. Blaise still felt better knowing that they weren't really 'estranged' or whatever, not anymore.

Harry made it through first year, and the summer in between flew by far too fast for Blaise's liking. He made it through second year, too, although his field tests left Blaise awake far too many sleepless nights, worrying and worrying until Harry came through the door, and Blaise could instantly pounce. Finally, they were staring at the reality of Harry's graduation; he already had a job secured, of course, but Harry seemed to be freaking out.

"You're ready."

"No I'm not! I spent half the time mucking about, even _after_ you'd gone. I'm not ready for the field!"

"You've been in the field for six months."

"Yeah, with an experienced Auror!"

"Harry, remember that time you told me that everything was going to be fine? This is me telling you everything is going to be fine. Now go, or you'll be late for your last day."

"Fuck."

"I know. Off you go, git. Love you."

"Love you, too. Still meeting me at the Italian place at 7?"

"Yup."

Since Ginny was at the shop that day, Blaise decided to spend the day thoroughly cleaning his own kitchen. It was his favourite past time, and it desperately needed it; as much as he loved Harry, he was the messiest human alive, and their flat was definitely not big enough for his tornado-like personality. He made a mental note to propose a move once Harry was settled at the Ministry. It was definitely time.

He was whistling happily, arms elbow deep in a mop bucket when he heard an aggressive tap at the window. He was confused. It was already five o'clock, and the post had been by that morning. Concerned it was Harry changing the plans, he hurried to the window to find a stately great grey owl he didn't recognise, holding a very official looking piece of parchment.

He immediately dropped his rag.

Three hours later, he was still sitting on the half-cleaned kitchen floor when Harry burst through the door laughing.

"B, did you fall asleep? I waited and waited, but- B. Blaise? What's wrong?" Harry said, immediately concerned and rushing forward to a crumpled heap of dark-skinned man, crying on the floor, knees curled into chest, clutching a piece of parchment. He sat down heavily, legs on either side of Blaise, typically close and questioning.

"Harry.…"

"What is it, love?"

"She's...she died. My mum. She's dead. She had some sort of flu."

"Oh, Blaise-"

"I mean, I know she was awful-"

"She's your mum, B. She was still your mum."

Blaise crumpled again, and Harry just held onto him tightly for ages. Finally, he forced himself up and thrust the parchment toward his partner.

"She wrote me back in. To the will. I've been in and out of it so many times, I just stopped keeping track. But this is from her solicitor. He says the last note on the file was, 'in the name of great love, leave everything to Blaise and his wonderful boyfriend'."

"Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"It's dated from the week we had lunch with her. Apparently, she got a bit sentimental. It's a lot of money, Harry."

"Well, I mean, it's fine, we can…I dunno, invest it? Or we can just leave it in the vault."

"No, Harry, it's _a lot_ of money."

Harry finally took the parchment Harry was holding out to him, skimmed it, and suddenly gaped at Blaise.

"Yeah. Pretty much. I've thought about it. We save some, obviously, and I can pay off the loans from the bakery. But then, I want to buy a house. Not like, a big house. Just not another flat. And I want to buy Ron and Hermione a house, too. And I want to help Draco pay for his flat so his mother doesn't own it anymore."

Harry looked at Blaise, mouth still open, not really processing information.

"I'm serious. Also, Harry….Marry me."

Blaise was still teary, and he knew that he sounded about as mental as his mother would have in this situation. The irony made him giggle manically, but he took a deep breath, scrubbed his face, and tried again.

"Harry, I mean it. House for Ron. Flat for Draco. House and wedding for us. What do you think?"

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, and muttered, "Ron'll never let you buy him a house."

"I won't give him a choice. Harry-"

"Of course, of course I'll marry you, ridiculous man. In fact, I was going to ask you. Tonight. Seemed appropriate, now that I'm done school."

Harry reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a weirdly shaped box which he balanced on Blaise's knee; when he opened it, he found a knotted, twisty ring that he instantly loved. He burst out laughing, and a short second later, Harry was laughing too.

"Our lives are so crazy. You know this isn't normal right? Engagement rings?" Blaise said, taking Harry's hand.

"Do you hate it? You don't have to wear it."

"Of course I don't hate it."

"Good. Draco picked it."

"I'm sorry, _Draco_ picked it…how? You two went shopping?"

"Don't be daft. I owled him. He sent it to me. Zero interaction. If I'd hated it, I'd have sent it back, but…you know me. I don't know how to do these types of things."

"It's perfect."

"Good. And just a warning. I want a big wedding."

"Really? That's sort of surprising, given how much you hate attention."

Harry shrugged, "Didn't ever get to have big events growing up. I want the foofaraw now."

"Okay," Blaise said, taking the ring out and putting it on. It really _was_ perfect.

"Blaise," Harry said, taking his hands. "Are you okay, though? Your mum..."

"Sure. Or at least, I will be. She really wasn't wonderful. I'm just…shocked, really."

Harry kissed Blaise and dragged him off the floor.

"Come on, come sit in the other room, away from this. I'll go get us food and be right back. We should get a house elf when we move. We'll have to pay it, so that Hermione doesn't murder me but- what? Oh, don't worry. We can tell it to leave certain rooms for you. Wouldn't want to take away your favourite hobby."

By the end of the evening, Blaise was full and satiated, and felt like, even though he should probably still be upset, he was instead full of a sense of purpose and rightness. And he paused for a moment to wonder if what he had fallen in love with first had not been Harry, but with his indeterminable ability to just make things _happen_. If they could keep moving like this, forward into change, headstrong and full of life, their lives were going to be very exciting indeed.


	8. Young and Restless, but No Longer Bored

"He's not going to come."

"I think you're wrong. I know that is a foreign concept to you, but I think you are wrong. You went to his wedding. He cares about you. Maybe you are underestimating him. "

"And I think that you are once again proving that you are a hopeless romantic, who also knows _nothing_ about Draco Malfoy."

"Blaise, I just think you're underestimating-"

"Oh. My god!" Hermione interjected. "I do _not_ have time for this, you two. This, this is a favour; I have a million other things to do. Am I making an invitation for them or not?"

Blaise and Harry stared hard at each other, Harry's eyes narrowed. They both spoke at the same time.

"Yes."

"No."

Hermione sighed, "Merlin. Okay, you know what?"

She flicked her wand at the card in front of her and it scripted itself.

"There. Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy. You decide whether or not to send it. I'm out."

"Thanks again, Hermione."

"I still think you are both crazy. What's the rush? There's no need to have a wedding _and_ move in the same month. Wait…Harry, are you pregnant?" she teased, laughing at her own joke.

Harry smiled, "You can blame _this_ one for the move. Couldn't stand to be in the apartment for one more second, and apparently, already built houses are beneath him. I am seriously reconsidering this whole, 'marrying a pure blood' plan."

He looked at Blaise, who was just grinning, and grinned back.

"Oh fine, I don't mean that. The building is going well, and it's actually pretty nice to be making all the decisions ourselves. You should see the tub we put in. And the wedding is going fine too, so for now, it's fine. But we _are_ inviting Draco and Katie."

"Fine, but he won't come."

Hermione shook her head at them, and left with an exasperated sigh.

* * *

They sat three months later at a table made of boxes, surrounded by other boxes, eating cup noodles and surveying the half painted walls. Harry took a sip of the glass of wine sitting in front of him and took a deep breath. He was exhausted. He had the next three days off, and then the week after the wedding, but most of his mind was on his cases. Which was a shame, because he was pretty sure that Blaise was rambling on about things that he had claimed he cared about just a few months earlier. Like colours for flowers? Or, something?

"Sorry, love, but I feel like I am talking for the good of my health. Say this sentence with me, 'Blaise, I simply do not care how you solve these last minute catastrophes, because I implicitly trust your wiser, well-trained, problem-solving self.'"

"Sorry, B. I'm just tired. I also have just decided that I _hate_ that purply colour. You were entirely right. I conceed the fact. We should go with the blue."

Blaise smiled, leaning across the box to rest his forehead on Harry's. He was quite used to this Harry now. The Auror, mid-week Harry was sometimes difficult to pin down. It was fine, but he kept feeling very thankful that they were not _both_ in dramatic careers. Baking rarely landed him in crossfire of anything more dramatic than flour bombs, and he didn't take his work home with him.

"Blue it is. Thank god I only painted the patches, hey? What about the thing with the flowers-"

But Blaise was interrupted by a tap on the window. He went to let the owl in, finding a small, non-descript owl he couldn't place. Harry looked up, and stood up suddenly.

"Hah! Radcliffe! That's Katie's owl. I _told_ you."

"It's a week before the wedding! They aren't owling to say they'll come. It's not done. Hold your horses, Gryffindor."

"Read it, then."

Blaise opened the letter and scanned it.

_Harry and Blaise,_

_I am so sorry to be replying this late. If there is space available, Draco and I would be pleased to attend your wedding and reception._

_Apologies again,_

_Katie Bell-Malfoy_

Looking at Blaise's face, Harry let out a triumphant sound and grabbed the letter out of his hand, which led to a tackle from Blaise, and a snog amongst boxes, and a grumbled 'I'll believe it when I see it', and general happy sounds from both of them.

Lying on the floor for lack of furniture, Blaise looked over at Harry and laughed.

"What?"

"I managed to distract you. Didn't think I was going to do that this time. You were pretty far away. Want to talk about it?"

"Nope. Distracting is better. Sorry, I am trying to get better at the compartmentalizing thing."

"Don't worry. You'll get there. It hasn't even been a year. Your just a little bitty baby Auror."

"Shove it," Harry said, laughing.

"Can you believe we're only a week away? It feels like...well, it feels like I was on the floor of the flat just yesterday."

"Well, in fairness, it's only been eight months."

"True. We really are crazy."

"Yeah, but at least we're crazy _together_. Plus, this house-"

"Yeah, we did good, huh?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too, Potter."

* * *

A week of craziness and sleeping on the floor later, their bed and their wedding day arrived at the same time, causing Harry to burst into nervous, uncontrolled hysterical laughter until Neville showed up to deal with the bed. They got ready in different rooms at home, and Harry got progressively more nervous and confused as the day went on. By half three, he was terrified. Neville was dispatched for an entirely different reason, born of an inability to convince Harry to leave his bedroom.

"Harry?" Blaise called from outside the door.

Harry whipped the door open and laughed, "You look so fancy."

Blaise smiled shyly in his tux, "You too. You okay, Wonderful?"

"I- no...not really," Harry scrubbed his face. He did look pretty panicked, which made Blaise nervous. "I hate being the centre of attention. Hey, isn't this bad luck?"

"What?"

"Aren't we supposed to, like, not see each other?"

"Harry Potter, do not Muggle tradition me now. Besides, that's a particularly bad one. Left over from when marriages were arranged, so the guy didn't run and _embarrass_ everyone. We should skip that whole thing, don't you think? Besides, I already know _exactly_ what I'm getting myself into," Blaise winked.

"I know, but just-"

"I'll leave when you promise me that you are going to meet me in a tent, in front of our friends, in exactly ten minutes. Okay?"

Harry's shoulders sunk back down to regular levels.

"Harry, okay? It's just us. Me. You. Together. We already did a bunch of the hard stuff. This is easy. Then we get to drink and have a big party. And there's treacle."

"Yeah, okay."

"Okay. Good. See you downstairs."

The ceremony went off without a hitch; it was a weird combination of Blaise's favourite parts of pure blood traditions, with a binding ceremony and ancient promises, and also parts they'd invented themselves.

The party after was loud and brash and went on forever. They held the party in a tent that had held up surprisingly well considering Harry had allowed George and Arthur put it up. There was dancing and frivolity, and the drinks were flowing freely. Blaise was currently standing, slightly tipsy, but mostly misty from sheer emotion, watching the chaos around him with a daft smile on his face. Growing up, the big wedding had always been inevitable. Not really a choice, in old families. But he had never looked forward to it; course, he'd always assumed he'd be marrying a girl. And a Pureblood. And someone his mother had picked.

He watched Harry, who was still in cummerbund and bow-tie, though his jacket had disappeared ages ago. He was spinning Mrs. Weasley around and around on the dance floor, both of them laughing hysterically, red-faced, hair soaked, dishevelled and more than halfway drunk. Blaise marvelled at how much his life could have changed in three years. Somehow, the extended parts of his family were here anyway, despite the whole 'I'm marrying a half-blooded _man_ ' concept. His friends were here. Harry's friends were here. No one had (so far) cursed them, hexed them, or caused any other kind of mayhem. No one had said a thing about the oddness of their relationship. No one had objected in the months leading up to today, and no one had said anything during the ceremony. Another song ended and Blaise clapped for the band along with everyone else, and felt his grin widen as Harry came toward him.

"Hello, handsome. Fancy a drink?"

"Oh, lord. Thank god you were never left to your own devices. You have _zero_ game."

"Too bad, you're stuck with me now," Harry grinned, looping his arms around Blaise's waist and pulling him flush. "Hey, you okay? You stopped dancing. Is it because…"

"Harry, leave it. I _told_ you he wasn't coming. It's not an issue. I wasn't anticipating him being here."

"Okay, well…If you are positive, then come dance with me?"

"And why on earth would I do that?" Blaise said, holding onto Harry tight, realising that he had been honest a moment ago. He really didn't care that Draco had decided to continue to be an ass. He was beyond the point of needing to care about Draco Malfoy. He was very happy with the realisation that he was completely fine. Clearly, they had all come a long, long way.

"I think, possibly, the best reason is because _you,"_ Harry replied, moving his hand to behind Blaise's neck. "Are my _husband._ "

"Oh yeah. Suppose I ought to remember that," Blaise said after he'd kissed Harry deeply. "Go on then, show me how you do that wonderfully spinney dance you were doing a moment ago. "

"In a minute," Harry said, attempting to kiss Blaise again.

"Stop, you're drunk. It is incredibly tacky to make out at a wedding, even if it _is_ one's own wedding."

"We really should leave then, don't you think?"

Harry kissed Blaise again, clinging and groping, and Blaise felt himself nod. "Perhaps we should, in fact. Do you think that your friends will behave themselves?"

" _My_ friends. Have you seen Pansy Parkinson in the last half hour? I am far more concerned about the Slytherins present."

"Always prudent. Let's go tell your de factos that we are going. Just so they don't come…er, looking for us."

"Ooh, lecherous and promising," Harry said, grabbing Blaise's arse before peeling himself off his husband's chest.

"I aim to always be lecherous and promising. Did I forget that in my vows?"

* * *

When they woke up in their house very late the next morning, Blaise wondered for a moment why he had woken up at all. He was still exhausted. He was pretty surely that he'd only let Harry go to sleep a few short hours earlier, as was evidenced by the fact that he was still tangled in messy sheets, naked as the day he was born. He looked around the darkened room and listened again. Which led him to the realisation that the insistent tapping at the window was likely why he was awake. He cursed and almost turned over to ignore the owl, but decided it was likely less annoying and quicker to just see what the owl wanted.

A large tawny and a smaller brown owl sat on the second story window when he opened the glass. One proffered it's leg with a small scroll. The other sat atop of a wrapped box.

"Why the bloody hell would someone send something _today,_ " grumbled Harry from the bed. "Send it off and come back to bed. We can deal with it later."

But Blaise had already unwrapped the scroll of parchment, and was reading the familiar dignified writing inside.

_Zabini,_

_There is a very strong chance that you are quite angry with me. Then again, there is an equally strong chance that you predicted my behaviour yesterday, and couldn't care less. I assure you that either way, Katie is mad enough at me for the both of you. I really am sorry, for what it's worth. I had entirely intended on coming to the party yesterday. Then, however, I started thinking about the Gryffindors, and the sympathizers, and the people who knew me then. And I just couldn't. I didn't want to be the reason your day became dramatic. I didn't want to force you to defend me, again. As always._

_I saw the wall at Hogwarts last month. Katie made me go see the memorial, and I wandered into the common room. It seems unfair, me up there with all of them since I did the things I did. I know, I know, you want me to let it go, but it's hard when you're standing there looking at the injustice. Strange how it seems the same, doesn't it? I kept thinking about sitting on that frigging sofa by the fire, piled in with the girls, telling secrets and giggling. We were so young. Things have certainly changed._

_Blaise, I know you used to like me. You didn't always hide it well, and once you told me about being gay...anyway. I just wanted you to know that it doesn't matter. I know you used to disappear because I was hurting you. Pansy used to get so mad at me for being an ass. But it was the only way I knew how to handle it. I have many regrets. Merlin, do I ever. But I thought you should know, I regret being a crap friend to you the most. You never complained, and worse, you never treated me like that in return. And I can't ever repay you for that. You deserve every ounce of the happiness you've found._

_I was sorry to hear about your mum. She was complete crap, but at least she had the sense to teach you who you were and what you were worth. More than I ever had, that's for sure. I am sorry, though; it's hard to lose your parents, even when they weren't worth much to begin with._

_I have taken a chance and been clichéd. I decided that between Pansy and Greengrass, neither of them would remember that you always wanted the traditional gifts, and without your close family- anyway, they're brass. Don't for the love of Merlin actually drink from them, you dolt. And if I'd been less of a giant dick and showed up yesterday, I could have given them to you in the proper way and said the stupid words we both hated so much growing up. The ones that I am sure you remember too. Instead, I'll write them here._

_We give you the gift of Brass,_

_May your marriage be strong and enduring,_

_The blend of your two families will make you strong._

_May your connection be stubborn and lasting,_

_And grow together to become even more beautiful._

_My actual and sincere best wishes to you and Potter. Live well, B. Just promise you will live well._

_Love,_

_Draco_

Blaise picked up the box off the windowsill, and found inside two, beautiful, engraved small cups of bronze. The traditional words echoed in his ears. He knew Draco well enough to know that these had not come cheaply. He felt tears sting his eyes as he put the parchment on the table by the bed and curled back up beside Harry.

"What was it?"

"Just a wedding gift. Sorry, go back to sleep."

Harry turned over and wrapped himself around Blaise's back, and took hold of his hands, crushing them against Blaise's chest.

"Draco?"

"Yup."

"Everything okay?"

"Absolutely. Better than ever."

* * *

Five years, when nothing insane happens, pass very quickly. Blaise couldn't believe it had been five years of parties and dinners and birthdays and celebrations with various friends. Five years of tea and five years of Sunday lunches and five years of arguing about the organisation of the kitchen. The same pub nights and bakery events, and lazy sex with Harry. It simultaneously felt like a lifetime, and like they had just begun.

Most days, they were happy despite The Fight. The kid one. The conversation they had failed to have before getting married too soon, of which there were many, and yet the only one that actually mattered. They only let it crop up every once in a while, but since neither of them would budge, it seemed relatively pointless and they would move on for the sake of getting back to the happy times.

See, the crux of the problem was that all of Harry's friends _had_ children, and had never even thought about not having kids. And all of Blaise's friends _didn't_ , and had never even thought about having kids. As much as he loved Ginny's twins, and Rose and Hugo, and even Luna's strange little boy, Lorcan, he was also endlessly happy when he got home again to a quiet house, with no toys to trip on, no bedtimes to navigate, no censoring of his conversations. Harry didn't actually feel the same way, but for some reason, he had lost in the compromise. Now, five years in, he only brought it up when he was slightly drunk, or very tired, or after they had been babysitting for a whole weekend. And even then, it seemed to always come up in a wistful, dreamy sort of way, not overly serious. Blaise would listen mostly quietly instead of engaging, and it would get dropped. He wanted to feel bad, but he just couldn't envision a life with children. They'd have to deal with it somehow, he supposed, before someone became unhappy.

Blaise stayed stoic and emotionally distant. Harry stayed messy. They learned. They figured each other out, and they lived as happily as anyone ever does, he supposed. The passion faded slightly, but he figured they were just older now, and he didn't mind most days.

Every year, they went back to Hogwarts for the Legacy game. And now, when Blaise visited, he just felt as fuzzy and nostalgic as all the others. Gone was the despondence and the pain of past mistakes.

You see, they were no longer those wild and crazy youth they had been in their school days; they didn't feel as passionately, they didn't hold to their convictions without thought as they once had. They were all a bit more sensible, and living in a world of stability. When Blaise looked around now, he saw only the good days. He saw the lazy afternoons by the lake, or the cramming for tests in the library. He saw Christmas feasts and Halloween antics in the Great Hall. He saw fun in the common room, and hilarious games in the dungeons. The bad days faded slowly, but fade they did.

All that remained was The Good.

Blaise Zabini would hold onto the good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end for these boys right now. We will leave them while they are happy. Life is sometimes easier that way. Thanks for sticking around.


End file.
